


The Legend of Zelda | Breath of the Wild | Book Two: Rushing Waters

by MattWords



Series: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild [2]
Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adventure, Adventure & Romance, Breath of the Wild Spoilers, Fanfiction, Fantasy, Friendship, Gaming, Gen, Legend of Zelda References, Love, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Novel, Novelization, Relationship(s), Romance, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Video & Computer Games
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2019-11-08 13:17:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 119,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17982041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MattWords/pseuds/MattWords
Summary: Hyrule's Champion has awakened, but not all are willing to welcome his return. Even Link is hesitant to claim the hope his coming brings, yet he cannot deny his task nor himself. The swordsman sets out to complete both, searching for his own memories as well as the Sheikah-built Divine Beasts commissioned to protect Hyrule from Calamity Ganon. Opposition arrives swiftly in the form of the Yiga, the Sheikah's ancient enemy and aids to Ganon's reincarnation. Even now, the Demon King's own servants seek to strengthen their stranglehold on eastern Hyrule -- where Link himself must go. As he does, Link discovers one of the key threads to his past -- and a line to which he will cling in the days ahead.





	1. Prologue

Moonlight glistened on the stagnant waters of the Lanayru wetlands, which lay still after a day’s worth of ceaseless disturbance. Normally an odd ripple or two would betray the presence of the innumerable carp that dwelt there.

Now, however, the shallow depths were all but fished clean by the scores of man-sized lizards that had claimed the wetlands for their own. Their many campfires dotted the “islands” that rose from the marsh, with anywhere from four to eight lizalfos hunkered and hissing at each site. Most of the pots hanging above those fires contained some concoction of herbs, snails and whatever other dregs could be found -- a pitiful concoction for the flesh-eating reptiles

More than one lizalfo cast an independently rolling eye toward the Wizzrobe as he walked past their fires, his dark red robes nearly black in the roiling shadows cast by firelight. The warlock’s face remained hidden within the depths of its hood. Only red-glowing eyes confirmed the presence of someone within the heavy folds, and wherever they looked, a previously discontent lizalfo would immediately avert its gaze, newly resigned to its paltry excuse of a meal.

The Wizzrobe readily wielded his ability to frighten the Ganonspawn. Lizalfos were far more intelligent than bokoblins or their larger moblin cousins, making them that much harder to control. This many gathered together were untamable by all save the most powerful of the Demon King’s servants. That was why the Wizzrobe wielded his twisted wooden wand openly, loosely held by unnaturally long fingers encased in a dark red glove. Its ruby-tipped end pulsed with a scarlet glow, ready to unleash fiery chaos in the space of a heartbeat.

Elemental magic would not be necessary this night. Despite the lizalfos’ numbers, the Wizzrobe was confident no uprising would take place. True, these creatures were smarter and far more devious than their pig-like brethren, but that also lent them a greater sense of understanding. They knew Who had set the Wizzrobe to command them.

Thoughts of his Master drove the sinuous lizards out of the warlock’s mind. His pace quickened, causing his nearly concealed boots to clunk swiftly on the wooden bridges connecting each of the wetlands’ islands. These were little more than series of logs lashed together with rope, a crude construction by the Hylians who normally traversed the area. Though lizalfos had not gathered in such numbers since the Calamity, enough of them frequented the wetlands that neither Hylians nor the neighboring Zora had dared to build more permanent roads through the marshes.

The Wizzrobe’s considerable strides saw him swiftly traverse the gloomy landscape. One larger slice of land still featured the rotting ruins of some small village, destroyed long ago. Red eyes glimmered brightly from within the depths of the scarlet hood. Soon, more lifeless husks would be left as proof of the Great Master’s inevitable return.

To the north, the glowing lava rivers of Death Mountain stood out in sharp contrast at night, illuminating the vast shape of their fount. It served as a fitting backdrop to the Wizzrobe’s destination: the last and largest island at the wetlands’ northern edge. Crossing the final, unsteady bridge of log rafts, he made his way around the hill at the island’s center.

The rise was comprised of large boulders held fast by half-sodden mud. The Wizzrobe continued to circle the mound until he found what he sought. The pitch-black mouth of a cave, set at the base of the hill and large enough for several to enter at once, yawned wide. He entered without hesitation, the still-glowing red of his eyes only faintly illuminating the cavern.

There was nothing inside. Neither blank, craggy walls nor the mud floor contained anything of value. To that nothing the Wizzrobe knelt, his cowl further hiding his visage as he faced the ground on one knee. His red eyes were now doused, closed in concentration for the magic needed to establish this particular connection. Soon, he thought with satisfaction, there would be no need for such ephemeral means.

Light flickered in the pitch blackness of the cave directly in front of the dark warlock. It emitted from two sources: twin yellow pinpricks that struggled to steady themselves in midair. Faster they winked in and out while beginning to expand and take shape. The Wizzrobe did not need to look up to know two eyes, each as large as he was, now loomed over him, their gaze attempting to crush him with size and severity. Finally, they ceased their struggle for existence, hovering steadily so as to look down upon their servant.

“As you have commanded, so do I commune with you, Great Master,” the Wizzrobe intoned. His voice rasped as it always did, as though uttered by a creature not meant to speak the human tongue.

The twin eyes blazed yellow fire that threatened to sear the warlock’s robes.

_TELL ME ALL._

The Wizzrobe shuddered at the power that voice carried. It was even more overwhelming in person, as he had been reminded at Hyrule Castle some days before. Even this imperfect presence, however, made the warlock feel like an insect, able to be crushed without the boot deigning to notice. Words hastily spilled from his mouth, their sound grating harshly off the rocky cave walls.

“Twenty score Lizalfos await your command, my Lord,” the Wizzrobe grated. “We have taken the wetlands. No Hylian has dared cross since our coming. They cower in their stables, praying to their filthy goddess we do not take it upon ourselves to wipe them from the earth.”

_WHAT OF THE ZORA?_

A shudder ran through the Wizzrobe. His Master must know. How could he not? He was as omniscient as he was powerful. The Demon King would not ask if he was not already aware. With luck, one day a portion of that power would be his. Until then, the warlock must disclose everything, even his most valuable piece of information. Perhaps, however, this was best. He might yet learn more for his honesty. He must be careful.

“The man-fish have slain several scouts, Master,” he admitted rapidly. “They conceal themselves well, but we were able to capture one and force it to talk. They seek a Hylian to help quell the Divine Beast that threatens to drown their home. With the boy dead and other Hylians little better than groveling dogs, their quest will surely fail.”

There it was. A question expertly disguised as praise. The yellow eyes flared alarmingly. The Wizzrobe could feel their heat intensify in the darkness.

_THE BOY LIVES._

White-hot rage emanated from the eyes and voice, and the Wizzrobe very nearly recoiled at the presence of both. He did not. All of his concentration was being pooled into maintaining the connection, and he dared not risk breaking it.

Shock ran through him, however  — and elation. Somehow, the boy had survived what should have been certain death. That miracle might very well lead to the Wizzrobe’s ultimate power. He had been furious upon learning a Stalfos was poised to seize the boy and, with him, the honor of _Karanlik_. Apparently, reanimated bones and a horde of pigspawn had been ill-equipped for the task.

He would not be.

“If you but ask it of me, Master, I will seek out the boy and destroy the very memory of him,” the warlock hissed.

_YOU WILL REMAIN._

The words were spoken immediately and with no room for rebuttal. Still, that did not mean a question would be out of place, not one from whom the Master trusted to lead His army. He must phrase it carefully. There were more ways to find out the “why” without asking as much. Deflecting the subject onto others was one.

“What would you have your lizalfos do, my Master?” the Wizzrobe asked submissively. “We are surely numerous enough to destroy the Hylian stables nearby. I believe we could even attack the —“

 _YOUR BELIEFS ARE NOTHING, WORM. YOU WILL REMAIN AND WAIT FOR THE BOY TO COME TO YOU. WATCH THE ROAD AND THE TOWER. IF HE EVADES YOU, YOU WILL DESIRE THE PLEASURE OF DEATH MORE THAN THAT OF_ KARANLIK _._

The Wizzrobe was not sure what burned more: the merciless fury in his Master’s voice or the flames that flared from those yellow eyes, threatening to turn his treasured robes into ash. The warlock’s own eyes burned bright red through his eyelids as he struggled to maintain the magical link. He must not let go before his Master. If he did, he would be worse off than the slop in the lizalfos’ cook pots.

In that instant, the yellow eyes winked out, leaving the Wizzrobe blinking in the sudden darkness of the cave. He fell to his hands and knees, retching as he allowed his body to fully release physical and emotional strain.

Once his mortal terror subsided, the warlock slowly rose to his feet. The memory of his Master’s anger was still sharp, but he had not missed the hint of reward at the very end.

“ _Karanlik…”_

The Wizzrobe’s voice echoed in the empty cave, its hiss like that of a snake readying to strike.

 

* * *

 

For the first time in over a century, Sidon was troubled.

No. That was not the right word. The Zora prince had been troubled when Van Ruta began — and then did not stop — spewing forth relentless rain on his beloved Domain. His people were born in and made for the water, but the ceaseless deluge was a danger to everyone and everything dwelling on or near the Zora River.

Sidon was certainly troubled by the presence of so many lizalfos. He had been loath to believe his scouts' initial reports. All those with him were young, and the shark-crowned prince had briefly assumed his water brethren were exaggerating or simply mistaken.

They were not. The wetlands were crawling with lizardspawn, to the point that any of his party wishing to explore beyond them were forced to waste days circling the swamps and then back again to report. Sidon’s enormous Zora spear — made to fit his equally large and impressive red-skinned frame — had dispatched more of the beasts in the last week than in the rest of his 120-year-old life combined.

It was certainly troubling that _only_ young Zoras had accompanied him on this quest. He respected the elders nearly as much as his father, and that respect was, to Sidon’s gratitude, returned. He tried his best to follow their teachings and live up to their expectations. Now, those whom he most admired had turned their dorsal fins on him. Not because the quest was difficult or fraught with danger, but because the goal thereof was more than they could stomach.

The Zoras needed a Hylian’s help. Hylians could wield the electric shock arrows needed to check Vah Ruta’s rage. Hylians could do what the Zoras could not. Yet it was a Hylian — their Champion, no less — whom the elders blamed for the loss of their princess one hundred years ago.

The Zora prince had loved his sister. He had been little more than a fingerling when Mipha was taken by Vah Ruta, but he remembered her. She had been beautiful, her human-like face gentle and kind, her red-skinned body as light and diminutive as Sidon’s was now large and powerful. Every now and then, the Zora prince's dreams recalled the soothing effect of his sister’s soft voice. She had bobbed him to sleep in the resting pools no small number of times, her velvet tones carrying him in time with the gentle lapping of the water.

Sidon blinked away the sudden presence of tears that threatened to fall from his large yellow eyes. His father had always gently accused him of having too big a heart.

“You see and remember the best in everyone,” Dorephan told him once. “Do not be overly disappointed when someone proves unworthy of such a gift, my son.”

The Zora prince looked over his shoulder, where the platform atop the slowly diminishing Wetlands Stable was still visible through the driving rain. Disappointed. Yes, that was how he felt. Disappointed in the men whose help he sought.

Sidon could remember being very small and seeing the grand Hylian escorts come to visit his father. Their shining armor, streaming banners, and complete unity had entranced him. It was that impression -- combined with Dorephan’s more lenient stance towards their fall to the Calamity -- which had made Sidon all but certain that Hylian nobility was merely dormant and awaiting a chance to return in heroic glory.

The stable had shown no evidence of such virtue. Lean and unkempt fishermen comprised the majority of the four score Hylians clustered there, far more than a stable would normally accommodate. Wives and their children, only recently arrived after fleeing their homes, crouched in whatever space they could find closest to the stable itself. The sight had turned Sidon’s heart. Everything and everyone about the place spoke of helplessness and fear.

At first, Sidon had empathized with them. Much like his own people, their world was being turned upside-down by evil awakened. Still, he had thought there would be those who believed, as he did, that hope was not lost until those willing to fight for it were gone.

This was not the first time Sidon had frequented the place. As recently as twenty years ago, he had accompanied Seggin to this same stable. It was peaceful, then, an optimistic abode after eight decades of relative and uneasy quiet following the Calamity’s backblast. Dorephan had sent his son and Demon Sergeant to ascertain the stability of the Wetlands Stable and its sisters to the north and south. The Zora prince had seen first-hand how Hylians had adapted since their kingdom’s fall, that these temporary sanctuaries and their patrolmen were the brave threads holding their now nomadic people together.

Recalling that structure, Sidon had ignored the surprise his presence ignited among the stable’s current occupants and sought out their equerry. Once the smallish man had ceased stammering at the much larger Zora’s appearance, he was able to inform Sidon that only six patrolmen remained.

“Rest done in by them lizalfos, ain’t they?” the equerry had said, shaking his head. “You can ask Quince over there. One patrolman won’t make a difference if the beasts ever decide to sack the place.”

This was not at all the attitude Sidon had expected from the leader of a Hylian stable. Shrugging it off to the weight of immediate troubles, he had indeed approached the patrolman the equerry had pointed out. Surely this modern-day warrior would not refuse a righteous request from a Zora prince.

Quince had turned out to be even worse than his superior. Apparently, he was new to the area and had never set eyes on a Zora in his life. Only a stern shout from the equerry had prevented the patrolman from running off in terror.

Applying patience well-learned and honed as a prince of his people, Sidon had knelt down -- so as lessen his size for the poor man’s sake -- and calmly explained his need. At the end of his request, he spared no amount of confidence in the man (confidence it appeared he could sorely use, Sidon reflected). The combination of need and trust should have infused the Hylian with the spirit of his ancestors.

Instead, the patrolman had hemmed and hawed like a lazy Hyrule bass in the depths of summer.

“The thing is, Mr. Sidon, I’m none too grand with a bow,” Quince said sheepishly while averting Sidon’s yellow-eyed gaze. “I don’t think I’m the one you’d want trying to slay a great beast what’s threatenin’ to drown your village.”

“Domain,” Sidon had corrected him. “Zora’s Domain. The jewel of Hylia's waters. And you _are_ the one, Master Quince! At least, you can be! You have only to believe in yourself, as I do!”

Rather than be inspired by Sidon’s faith, Quince had actually seemed somewhat embarrassed. He merely turned sideways to avoid the Zora’s direct attention while nervously rubbing the back of his neck.

“Truth be told, Mr. Sidon,” the patrolman said haltingly, “I think you’d best find someone else for the job. I’m surely needed here and you’ve got the look of someone brave enough to face whatever it is that’s threatenin’ your… Domain?”

With that, Quince had scurried off, leaving Sidon completely nonplussed. A patrolman, a blade of bravery commissioned to defend Hyrule, evading the call of duty? It was astounding. It was… disappointing.

Sidon wasn’t used to feeling this way about someone, let alone an entire race. _No,_ he thought. _I won’t become embittered like the elders_. He followed that thought with a quick prayer asking forgiveness for his mental disrespect. More important now was his next course of action.

He could continue his journey north, find the stable he vaguely remembered in that direction. Yes, it was on the other side of the river fed by the wetlands, beyond a small bridge if he remembered correctly. Perhaps he would even meet a Goron, as the stable lay at the southwest foot of Death Mountain. Even now he could see the molten streams at its summit, visible despite the torrential rain that continued to fall.

Cheered by newfound purpose and the potential bonus of a chance encounter, Sidon was about to set out at a run toward the river when the volcano retained his attention. Those rivers of lava were now obscured by something enormous. Enormous and moving.

On the rocks of his dear Zora River, Sidon often saw blue lizards basking on the rocks, waiting for the lazy darner to hover too close before snatching it up as a meal. If he thought it was possible, Sidon would have sworn the monstrosity clambering around the mountain’s peak was a giant version of those small reptiles. The Zora prince shook his head and wiped excess rainwater from his eyes. Shielding his face with a clawed and slightly webbed hand, Sidon peered again to the northeast.

The phenomenon was gone. The bright orange rivulets exiting Death Mountain’s crater were once again visible. Nothing moved on the mountain, at least, nothing able to be seen from this distance.

Sidon frowned. He was not normally given to passing fancies or flighty imaginings. Then again, he had not slept in over a day. His search for the ever-elusive Hylian had consumed him, to the point of putting off the elementary needs of food and rest as long as possible.

 _I’m hungry and overtired,_ Sidon told himself firmly. _I will be of no help to my people this way_.

Resolving to find a meal and a quiet inlet in which to sleep, the Zora prince set out northeast once again, praying anew that he might find the Hylian his homeland needed.


	2. Duty's Reflection

Clouds muted the midday sun, which saw its power further diminished by high, cold winds gusting about Marblod Plain. The rocky plateau met its end to the south, where its end jutted out like an immense spike above the gentle valley slopes below.

Wind swirled up and around the plain’s only interruption: a magnificent and solitary tower that glowed with an eerie blue light. The phenomenon was somewhat muted by bronze-like grillwork that sheathed the structure’s narrow core before giving way to the perfectly circular platform at its summit. The deck was topped by an oblong roof of bronze bearing a curious sigil: a single eye from which a lone teardrop hung suspended, ready to fall.

The sobering weather suited the young man standing atop the platform just fine. He was in no mood to enjoy the spectacular tapestry that lay before him, courtesy of a vantage point that would not have been the possible just a fortnight ago. From here, Link could see everything.

At least, everything until mountains cut off his point of view. One day’s ride to the west, Link recognized the Dueling Peaks, a pair of inward facing monoliths almost identical save that the northern twin was slightly smaller than its southern sibling. One week ago, his journey had taken him and a friend between those steep-faced crags in the dead of night, fleeing bat-like creatures that had hunted them en masse.

His view southward was more immediately blocked by a vast range of mountains known as the Necluda. From his perch atop the tower — it reared some two hundred spans higher than the highest point of Marblod — Link could make out narrow canyons dividing the unforgivingly sharp crags. That range would be a veritable labyrinth to all but the most experienced of travelers. His friend, Brigo, had told him the only safe way to the other side was through Dueling Peaks to the west before circling south and back east again. Luckily, his plans did not require him to make such a journey.

To the north and northeast lay a far gentler scene. From the elevated Marblod stretched a vast valley of green that Link knew somewhat better than his other surroundings. Ovli Plain spread from west to east, its grassy rises and forested interruptions running into northern mountain ranges of various names. A magnificent waterfall at the plain’s northeast border fed Nirvata Lake, its surface unusually dark due to the dull gray clouds above.

The deepest pocket of the valley’s embrace lay to the east, where a series of rock-sided and grass-topped hills cradled a village of soothing beauty. Whitewashed windmills sprouted like enormous flowers, each with four enormous blades that rotated slowly from atop conically shaped towers. The road winding through the southern half of the valley ultimately spilled into the village’s western entrance, but its final stretch was hidden by a dense forest rich in wood, fruit, and game.

It was possible no being in living memory had laid eyes on such a sight, with the possible exception of the Rito. Link had yet to meet one, but he knew from the former King of Hyrule that the bird-like race was capable of soaring the heavens on a whim.

Then again, Link supposed he would have met a Rito once. It would have been long ago, more than a century, in fact. Yet here he stood, showing every sign of youthful vigor. His deep-set eyes were bright blue, but as hard and cold as a newly thawed river in the first week of spring. All of his dark blonde hair, save a few wisps that strayed about his ears, was gathered and tied back at the nape of the neck. His body, clothed in stout traveler’s gear and minimal leather armor, was lean and fit. His cloak flapped in the wind, unremarkable save for the gold-embroidered insignia on its back: a pyramid of three triangles nestled between a great pair of wings.

Link was alive and well thanks to ancient Sheikah technology, the same that had built the tower on which he now stood. His saving grace had also cost him all memory of who he was. For one hundred years the former Hylian Champion had lain unconscious in the Chamber of Resurrection, where his mind and body healed after both were nearly destroyed by Calamity Ganon.

Unconsciously, Link turned his gaze to the northwest. His view of Hyrule Castle, however, was obstructed by the Pillars of Levia, aptly named hills that all but hid the Sheikah tribe’s village from the rest of the world. Beyond them, inside Hyrule’s former seat of power, resided some form or essence of Ganon. Even now it was gathering its strength, building to the moment it would break free and descend upon the world in chaos once again. Link had failed to stop him a century ago. It was Zelda who had finally contained that evil. Her price was her freedom, making Link’s seem a pittance by comparison.

All of this was infinitely more than Link had known a fortnight ago. He had awakened within the shrine without even a name to his memory until Zelda had magically communicated it to him. As though meeting a stranger, he had learned of himself second-hand from the spirit of King Rhoam, Zelda’s father. Impa, the Elder of the Sheikah, had added to that knowledge.

Much of what they had revealed rang true to Link, even if he could remember nothing of it himself. He had been a knight of great renown before being commissioned to protect Hyrule’s princess and help her seal away Ganon as ancient prophecy had foretold. He had failed on both counts, allowing the Calamity to leave death and ruin in its wake. Somehow, Zelda had stopped Ganon, turned back his onslaught and kept him captive within the very castle he had overtaken. Her strength, however, was now waning even as his was building.

_“The beast… When the beast regains its true power, the world will face its end.”_

That was what Zelda had told him, the sound of her voice in his head so tantalizing in its familiarity. Link was still unsure how he was to prevent such a catastrophe from taking place. He only knew that the deed was still his to complete.

_“You are the light -- our light -- that must shine upon Hyrule once again.”_

Link did not deny the weight of Zelda’s words, only his worthiness of them. He had failed her, after all. But Rhoam and Impa, the Sheikah Elder, had also been adamant that his role had not yet been played out. More importantly, Impa seemed to have an idea of how to go about fulfilling that duty.

That line of thought brought Link’s gaze to the curious device in his hands. Like the spherical top of the tower and the Shrine of Resurrection, the small rectangle he held bore the curious eye sigil. It was the mark of the Sheikah, and it was their people who had made this “slate” in an age long past.

The other side of the device was normally dark and smooth, like glass without the promise of reflection. Now, however, its surface was alight with a marvelously detailed, if only partially complete, map of Hyrule. It was for this reason that Link had made the short journey from Hateno to the Sheikah tower. Each of these structures contained a portion of that map waiting to be distilled into the slate. Before today, nearly everything within Link’s view from the tower had been dark and unmarked on the map. Now, varying shades of green and brown, lines indicating rises and valleys, blues marking bodies of water, and small words naming places brought the land to life in such a way as to make an artist’s work seem a child’s drawing.

Curiously, the map also featured small glowing points of interest. Three were miniature imitations of the same tower on which Link now stood. A yellow arrow appeared superimposed over the east-most tower, indicating his current and exact location. Two small blue diamonds -- one far to the west on the Great Plateau, the other northwest in Kakariko Village -- marked ancient shrines built by the Sheikah.

It was the last such curiosity that now held Link’s attention. To the east, pulsing at the far edge of the neatly labeled Hateno Village, blinked a round dot of gold. In a way he could not understand, Impa had made that small circle appear on the map before he had set out from Kakariko to Hateno. There, she had told him, Link would find someone who could help him rediscover his lost memories. There, his preparation to face Ganon would begin in earnest.

Link looked up from the slate toward the village. He could see the place with his eyes easily enough: an especially tall and slightly askew building atop the largest hill at the eastern edge of the community. Now that he had accomplished his task at the tower, there was no reason to put off seeking whoever was supposedly waiting for him.

Unlike his hasty flight from the tower near Dueling Peaks, Link did not use the curious contraption folded and hanging from the back of his belt. Floating down on his “paraglider” — a final gift from Rhoam — was too much of a risk given the additional height from the ridge to the waiting valley below. Instead, Link exited the circular platform through a carved opening in its floor and began to climb down.

The descent was not difficult. The grillwork offered easy handholds, allowing Link to reach the ground in a matter of moments. A chestnut mare of brown hair and cream accents waited patiently at the bottom. The horse had been a gift from a farmwife, readily given because Link had intended to help her homeland.

Lifting himself easily onto the saddle, Link guided his mount to the path that skirted along the ridge before descending eastward into the valley. Lake Jarrah, the finality to the easterly coursing Squabble River, lay directly below. On the other side of that lake spread the property of the farmwife, Sagessa.

The widow and her children -- along with another widow and her brood -- had only just returned. Link could see two youngsters waving frantically at him from below. No doubt they had been watching like hawks for his return from the tower. He smiled to imagine their reaction at the tower’s unusual light changing from orange to blue after activating the structure with his slate. He waved back, hopeful the fatherless families could resume their lives in peace.

Though Impa’s ally was marked as his destination on the Sheikah Slate, Link had come to Hateno first and foremost to help stave off its destruction. Ganon’s gathering strength had already revealed itself here in the form of a small army of bokoblins and moblins. The pig-like creatures, led by a nightmarish and reanimated skeleton called a Stalfos, had nearly laid waste to the largest Hylian village to have survived the Calamity.

Though Link could remember nothing specific from his life before awakening, instinct had come to his aid. He had known how to prepare a village for battle as readily as he knew how to defend himself. That knowledge — along with timely aid from the Sheikah and stablemen from Dueling Peaks — had kept Hateno mostly unscathed. Mostly.

Mercifully, the path took Link into the southernmost Midla Woods before his eyes could find the source of his unrest. Here and in the Ginner Woods to the north, the army of Ganonspawn had encamped before attacking. The residue of their stay had already been cleared out by Hatenoans intent on seeing their forests safe and restored. None were about now, however, leaving Link in canopied solitude.

Unwilling to leave safety to chance, he removed his bow from the saddle horn. A quiver full of wooden shafts already hung from his side. Link drew one and held it half-drawn to his bow, his blue eyes alertly scanning the trees while his knees guided his mount forward. He must think of a name for the chestnut. Perhaps Brigo or Dorian would have a good suggestion.

Link passed through the woods without incident, the only disturbances made by birds, squirrels, and a deer caught flat-footed at his approach. Though tempted by the thought of fresh venison, Link let the stag have at least another day. There would be something to eat in the village.

At that stomach-rumbling thought, the road forked straight and to the right. Link took the latter path, which immediately began to rise with the land. The forest thinned rapidly until he clearly beheld the rising beauty of Hateno Village.

Like the farm widows, Hateno’s denizens were setting about restoring normality to their home. Two days ago, the road leading into the village had been tightly hemmed in by steep, rocky hill walls on either side. The natural bottleneck had proven invaluable in holding back the Ganonspawn, but bomb arrows used to blunt the flood of snout-faced monsters had blown that funnel open.

Now, half the village labored to reline that corridor with boulders excavated from nearby Walnot Mountain. A slow assembly line of men and women hauling carts of stone slabs filed back and forth through the village. Others unloaded the rocks with willing arms and wooden planks. Their exact placement was being directed by an especially tall man with short, brown hair. His instructions rang out in a raucous, heavily accented voice none could fail to hear. Even if they did, they would not miss his highly animated gesturing, which was emphasized by the long spear he carried.

“Ease ‘er down gentle now, lads!” Brigo encouraged a group unloading an especially large boulder. “This one’s bigger than me mammy’s new year’s supper o’ skewered meats an’ strawberry cordial! Thadd! Ivee! Stop makin’ cows eyes at each other an’ help yer elders and betters!”

A straw-haired young man and an equally young woman with closely cropped brown hair hurried over, both blushing profusely at Brigo’s merciless orders and the hearty laughs they had produced. That did not stop them from enthusiastically helping shoulder the load side by side.

The exchange brought a much-needed smile to Link’s face. The patrolman was one of the very few friends Link had in this second attempt at life. Humorous and outspoken to a fault, Brigo was also as brave and skilled a companion as Link could have hoped to have at his side. The Hebran-born warrior had managed to convince his equerry that accompanying Link was as good as -- if not better than -- patrolling the area alone. His help and knowledge in the recent battle and its aftermath was proving invaluable to these normally peaceful villagers.

Brigo noticed Link approaching and promptly called out to a thin villager with a head full of shocking red hair.

“Sayge! Keep an eye on these fightin’, farmin’ reconstructionists! I’ve business that needs addressin’!”

The craftsman waved heartily in response and immediately began issuing extremely detailed instructions to the equally willing villagers, many of whom were still chuckling at being so succinctly described.

Brigo left the busy crowd to join Link, who was drawing admiring glances, nudged shoulders and blatant finger-pointing from every villager as he dismounted. One enthusiastic youth took far too much honor in receiving the chestnut’s reins, showering him with reassurances that the mount would be well cared for. Link mustered as cheerful a face as possible, muttering his thanks before raising a hand in return to those who hailed him without stopping to converse. Brigo returned those salutations far more generously, as if they were directed at him all along. It was not until they left the main party at the village entrance behind that the patrolman finally spoke.

“For Hylia’s sake, lad, yeh act like we lost the ruddy battle!” Brigo muttered under his breath. “I know yer not happy unless the enemy’s slain with nary a scratch to show fer it, but ‘tis too much to ask of anyone! Take wot yeh’ve won and thank the Goddess fer Her bounty.”

Link’s rebuttal stepped onto the road from between two houses on the left. The farmwife’s eyes and nose were red, evidence of recently shed tears. She had been looking down while walking, but her face lifted in time to see the pair heading toward her general direction. Link’s gaze was pulled to hers like metal to his slate’s magnesis rune. He saw her eyes fill with fresh tears before she turned and half-stumbled, half-ran to her home deeper in the village.

“Tell her to thank the Goddess for Her bounty,” Link said quietly. “Tell her to thank Hylia for all fourteen years her son was with her. While you’re at it, tell her they could have been together longer had I done my duty a century ago. At least then she can be at peace with the why of it all.”

As Link spoke, his eyes were drawn to where the farmwife had initially appeared. Beyond the houses lining the main road, beyond the village wheat fields and at its northern edge lay seventeen newly raised mounds of earth, each adorned with various flora, mementos and decorations. Those fresh graves were the fallen of Hateno, those whose lives were lost in battle two days previous. Link had requested the names of each one the morning it was finished, then asked the village head for permission to deliver the news to each family himself. The war against Ganon was his burden to bear, and the death toll was part of that burden.

“I see our hero continues to think heavy thoughts. Perhaps a meal would both lighten his spirit and fill his belly?”

The kindly interruption came from the village head himself. Of medium height with impeccably cut hair and beard, Reede had proven himself to be an adept leader in the short time Link had known him. His gait still betrayed a limp, courtesy of a bokoblin’s blade. His smile was as sincere as his offer, however, and Link felt some of his newfound tension ease in the presence of both.

“A meal sounds fine, Reede,” he said gratefully before adding, “It must be quick. I’ve business to attend with your Sheikah villagers before the day is done.”

The village head acquiesced with a graceful nod and a sweeping gesture further up the path toward the inn.

“It’s already prepared,” Reede informed him. “I took the liberty of assuming you would have some appetite after your venture to Marblod this morning.”

Link shot the slightest of glances to Brigo, but the patrolman quickly responded with an even smaller shake of his head. He and Dorian were the only ones currently in the village who knew Link as the legendary knight of a century past. True, most of the villagers had already seen him use the mysterious powers of the Sheikah Slate during the recent battle, but they were oblivious of its connection to the hero of legend. Link was in no hurry to see how his unremembered past was viewed by those whose trust he had only begun to earn.

The three did not converse until after entering the inn and seating themselves in the study. Link wondered briefly why they had not gone to the far more spacious common room to eat. Then he saw Reede draw a thick curtain he had not noticed before, ensuring more than a modicum of privacy. It briefly parted as a serving boy quickly set out an assortment of fruit, vegetables and a plate full of simmering grilled fish that set Link’s mouth watering. The boy left, leaving the party of three to eat at a small table set for four. Link’s questioning look was immediately answered by the village head.

“Young Thadd is to make sure Master Dorian joins us once he returns,” Reede said before gesturing to their plates. “Please, eat. I would not delay your meeting with your friends at the research lab.”

Link and Brigo needed no further encouraging, setting to the filling spread with a will. Link, however, found himself asking questions for which recent events had left precious little time.

“This is the second time you have referred to their home as a research lab,” he noted between mouthfuls. “What is it they learn?”

“Your guess is as good as mine, Master Link,” Reede shrugged. “As I told you the other day, they keep to themselves save when their larders need restocking. I mentioned an older woman, but I must admit she has not been seen in some time. It is very possible she has passed on. She and the old man are both very private, and it would not shock me if her death was as undivulged as her life. I know only that she has been here long before my father was named head of this village.”

“How do yeh know they’re Shiekah then?” Brigo interrupted through a mouthful of meat.

“Hateno has long been under the protection of the Sheikah,” Reede acknowledged. “I was blessed by Hylia to meet one of their people when I became village head. That individual and the old man who lives here bear striking similarities. That and my father’s word were enough for me.”

Link knew Reede was referring to the Sheikah’s white hair -- shared by both sexes -- and secretive mannerisms. The patrolman responded with a satisfied nod. Brigo was well versed in the lands and peoples of Hyrule, having been raised in the great Hebra Mountains to the northwest before journeying to Dueling Peaks as a young man.

“I trust you accomplished whatever you set out to do, Sir Link,” Reede said casually while the pair continued to eat. “Many of us assumed you had something to do with the phenomenon at that tower on Marblod Plain.”

Brigo choked on an especially large bit of pork. Link merely continued to chew on his own food, allowing silence to mask his own foolishness. Of course the village would have seen the tower’s light change from orange to blue. He still did not understand why it would do that. Aside from filling in the map on the slate, what reason did the tower have to alter its appearance so visibly? It was worse than lighting a beacon for friend and foe alike, neither of whose attention he was keen on attracting before he was ready.

Reede, however, held up his hands in a gesture of platitude.

“I do not need to know what happened,” he insisted gently. “Your business is your own, especially after what you have done on behalf of my people. I thought I would be remiss, however, to not let you know that your actions were noticed.”

Link nodded gratefully, while Brigo’s throat resumed functioning properly. The tension was further eased by the entrance of an extremely young man. His completely white hair was tied in a bun at the top of his head, his clothes made of form-fitting, dark blue material interrupted only by a large, white eye sigil on the chest. A short, curved sword hung sheathed at his side, while a larger version of the same blade was strapped to his back. The newcomer’s enthusiastic brown eyes took the small party in at a glance and found Reede. He immediately turned to face him directly and gave him a perfectly perpendicular bow.

“I am grateful for your welcome, Master Reede,” Dorian intoned, his face still parallel to the floor.

The village head was already gesturing for the young Sheikah to straight himself. “Please, Master Dorian, you may consider yourself welcome always. Sit and eat before your friends rob you of the opportunity.”

Link and Brigo looked shamefully at the relatively small amount of food left after their own gorging, but Dorian merely smiled at the pair.

“I have a feeling that Hylia allowed me to accompany them solely because I am a light eater,” he said with a grin while sitting down. He began filling his plate while addressing Link. “I see that your journey to the tower at Marblod was successful, Sir Link. It is good to see another sign of hope to which others can look.”

“You think it would be treated as such?” Link asked curiously. “I’ve as little idea what a tower’s light means as anyone.”

“Every activated tower has thus far been closely accompanied by a victory over Ganon,” Dorian answered readily while slicing an apple. “You spoke briefly of bokoblins slain on the Great Plateau. More Ganonspawn met their end at Dueling Peaks. A great victory was won at Hateno. It will not be long before the correlation becomes clear to others.”

Link chewed reflectively, aware that Reede was still in the room. Dorian’s words had loosened the band of guilt constricting his heart more than he thought was possible. Those towers were signals that he was, at the very least, setting out to right what had ended so wrong.

“Let us hope that correlation continues, then,” Link answered casually. “That being said, my next duty lies not with a Sheikah structure, but with its people. Do you know anything about the pair that lives here in the village?”

Dorian shook his head while swallowing a bite of fruit. “Only that they are indeed Sheikah and that they are here. I assume Master Reede has told you as much?” He paused only long enough to note the village head’s nod of assent. “Part of ensuring our secrecy includes limiting interaction with our brethren located elsewhere.”

Link nodded, thoughtfully circling his fork on the surface of his now-empty plate. “Of course. Speaking of secrets, was there anything worth hiding from in the woods or the plain? What danger remains?”

The young Sheikah frowned at his plate. “I expected a handful of bokoblins to remain out of sheer laziness, but I found none. We slew most of them, but for there to be no trace at all seems odd. They have left, and not on a whim, either.”

Reede glanced worriedly from Dorian to Brigo and back again. “But, surely that is a good thing? I would rather have no Ganonspawn near Hateno than any at all.”

Brigo, who until now had simply listened to the discourse, took it upon himself to answer. “Anythin’ unusual is worth worryin’ about, Reede,” the patrolman insisted. “Dorian might be the only one here who knows more about pigspawn than me. Yer village may very well be safe fer now, but whenever we leave, we need to know everythin’ we can with so much o’ Ganon’s filth roamin’ Hyrule these days.”

Reede nodded somewhat dubiously, but his expression lifted when Link added, “We don’t mean to worry you, Master Reede,” he said while getting to his feet. “As Brigo said, I do think Hateno can rest easy for now. I, however, can not. Dusk is approaching. It is time to meet your Sheikah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Resetting the table at the beginning of a sequel can be a drag. By Book 3 in the Harry Potter series, I was done with that gimmick, which is what made Goblet of Fire's beginning such a refreshing change of pace. That being said, I went for it here since so much has already happened and you guys are forced to go days between fresh chapters. That's a jagged reading experience, and I thank you whether you're relying on memory or going back and re-reading to stay up to speed.
> 
> If you read Book One: Awakening, Link's struggle with guilt about his past is nothing new (it began at the end of Chapter 8). To me, it's been one of the most realistic ways to add life to a hilariously mute and expressionless character in the middle of a fantasy game. I'm anxious the second I wake up and realize there's something I forgot to do. How would I react if I woke up and realized the world was in shambles because I didn't complete my heroic to-do list that's now 100 years old?
> 
> I'm very excited for how the next couple of chapters turned out. Writing about the forthcoming Sheikah (and one in particular) turned out so much better than I could have hoped. Then again, that's only my take. You may not care for it, and that's okay. There are more characters like that coming up. My interpretation of the upcoming Sheikah, the Zora and other unrevealed characters may not be what you had in mind. Hopefully, within the context of this story, you can at least feel that they fit. As always, thanks so much for reading.


	3. Unexpected Meetings

The setting sun cast a reddish hue on Hateno’s white windmills as the quartet exited through the inn’s front door and began walking eastward through the village. The main path crossed a small stream stemming from a nearby pond before weaving between the gradually climbing hills into which the community was built.

Closely packed homes along the path gave way to small farms that were set further apart from one another while claiming more land. Link saw one wife and husband corralling a small flock of sheep into a large enclosure. Their son was trying none too successfully to herd a handful of cuccos into their coop.

The sprawling farms — along with their accompanying hills — forced the path to tack back and forth while still climbing toward the group’s destination. Link was beginning to wonder whether he had left this visit until too late when, at the path’s next sharp bend, a curious object caught his attention.

It looked like a torch sconce, but it was driven into the ground alongside the road rather than hanging from a wall. Instead of iron, the work was composed of a bronze-like metal adorned with swirling patterns. The torch’s light was accessible through four open windows on each side, though the top of the sconce served to shield it from the rain.

Most unique of all was the flame itself: a fire of pure and bright blue that appeared to burn without the aid of fuel. It simply hovered inside the sconce, casting an eerie light reflected in the curious eyes of its four visitors.

“That… that has never been lit before,” Reede stammered. “I have never seen anything like that. Have you, Master Dorian?”

The young Sheikah hardly bothered to shake his head while drawing closer to the torch. He was clearly fascinated, the unusual light lending an unnatural glow to his wide eyes. “Much of the ancient Sheikah technology was lost to us in the Calamity,” Dorian informed them. “If Lady Impa chooses not to divulge it, it is unknown. Like you, I have never seen this before.”

Link remained silent. Though he had never seen a torch exactly like this, its design all but screamed of the same origin as the Sheikah towers and shrines he had frequented since awakening. Each was made for a different purpose, but Link was beginning to realize that all Sheikah craft were similar not only in appearance, but in their sense of mystery and wonder. He was reminded that, once again, he was at the mercy of a people far more knowledgeable than himself. His lack of memories only emphasized that disadvantage, one that was suddenly more discomfiting than ever.

“I don’t know about you lot, but I’d rather get a move on than stare at the ruddy thing for the rest of the night.”

The blunt blade of Brigo’s tact severed the spell between fire and friends. Dorian was initially reluctant to leave this new marvel behind, but he was quickly rewarded with the sight of more torches along the path as it continued its upward track. The sun was nearly gone now, allowing the scattered blue lights to jointly illuminate the last and tallest hill with increasing brightness.

It was their destination that held the small party’s attention now. The last rays of daylight illuminated the building at the hill’s summit, and it was as unique a sight as the torches leading to it.

As with many of the larger homes of Hateno, a small white storage tower was attached to the main square building. Wooden stairs wound their way around its length, providing access to the tower storerooms. This edition, however, did not stop with a circular red-tiled roof. Precariously perched on top of the tower and held fast by wooden beams was another house, a haphazard structure of wood that seemed more like a disorderly nest than an actual home.

Set apart from the unusual abode sat what could only be described as a forge, though it was unlike any Link had seen before. The thing was bulbous, with blue-glowing Sheikah sigils carved all around it. One short, bronze torch sat in front of the furnace, its bowl filled with blue fire. Ropes extended from the forge’s base and through a hole cut into the house’s wall, though for what reason Link could not begin to fathom.

Dorian, however, was drawn to another curiosity on the other side of the building. As he followed, Link saw the southern side of the hill was actually a massive cliff face that made this side of Hateno all but inaccessible. He pulled out his Sheikah Slate and, upon examining the map, saw that the vast ocean below was called the Necluda Sea. A steep and narrow path led from the back of the village to the beach, but it appeared useful only to those coming from Hateno. The only way for strangers to use it would be to arrive by water, as either side of the beach was cut off by Ebon Mountain to the west and Walnot Mountain to the east. The resulting bay was very likely the villagers’ source of fish.

The young Sheikah did not stop to admire the breathtaking view. Instead, Dorian was inspecting an enormous cylinder covered in Sheikah runes. The device was propped up with large wooden polls so it could rest lengthwise in an elevated position. The contraption was set high enough to where the smaller end hovered just above a wooden platform extending from halfway up the tower’s spiral staircase winding. That end was much smaller than the other, and Link saw the latter was capped with a circle of blue glass.

“I have seen one of these before, though on a much smaller scale,” Dorian offered eagerly while eying the device. “The Gerudo are known to make them. It is called a telescope. Master Cado has one. They are ingenious. If you look through one end, whatever it shows you in the distance appears much closer than it actually is.”

Link nodded thoughtfully. That much information was useful just looking at the thing. The larger end pointed to the east and the lands beyond the village — the same area Link and his friends had traversed just a few days earlier. He did not think it a coincidence, not when Impa had seemed to have his journey here prearranged.

“Are… are we going to knock?” Reede called hesitantly from the front of the house. “I do not think it wise to linger uninvited outside a Sheikah’s home.”

Dorian immediately blushed in embarrassment. He and Link made their way to the village head and patrolman, who were eyeing the front door as if wondering whether their curious snooping might bring the inhabitants’ wrath upon them. Link put a comforting hand on Reede’s shoulder.

“You have done much for me this day, friend,” Link told him warmly. “Please, go back to your village and enjoy the company of your loved ones. I do not know what the nature or length of my conversation with these people will be, but I assure you it will be more complicated than you need after the last few days.”

The village head returned Link’s gesture of friendship with his own. “It is I who am grateful, Sir Link,” he replied earnestly. “Not only for your service to my village in its darkest hour, but for the friendship of one such as you. If you have need of anything later today, tomorrow or ten years from now, it will be freely given here.”

With that and warm farewells to Brigo and Dorian, Reede turned back down the winding path and descended to his village. Link was briefly envious. His home. Reede knew who he was and what his life expected of him. Well, hopefully, the time had finally come for Link to learn that much for himself.

Brigo and Dorian were patiently waiting. Both had far more dealings with the Sheikah than Link, at least more than he could remember. Squaring himself to the door — it bore a very faded Sheikah eye painted over its wooden surface — he approached and knocked.

 

* * *

 

Link was not sure what he had expected. Vague ideas of an elderly Sheikah wise woman similar to Impa had come to mind. Perhaps the old man Reede had mentioned.

He certainly did not expect to hear a small girl’s voice call out gleefully from within the house.

“Oh good, you’re here!” it shouted enthusiastically. “Well, don’t stand outside dawdling like a love-shy Gerudo! Come in!”

Link’s lifted eyebrows earned only a shrug from Brigo and a perplexed expression from Dorian. Reminding himself of all the reasons he knew this was the right place, Link opened the door.

His first reaction was one of utter shock at the difference between this Sheikah abode and those in Kakariko Village. The latter had been neat to the point of meticulousness, with everything laid out in symmetrical patterns that allowed as much space as possible. Link had unconsciously assumed he would see more of the same here.

That expectation was shattered by an explosion of mess and disorder. Books and parchments lay scattered on the floor and surfaces of shelves and tables. Wooden boxes were shoved and stacked into every available corner. Lit lanterns were spread about haphazardly, and Link thought it a miracle none had turned the place into a massive bonfire already.

Even with the clutter, the interior of the house was large, allowing room for an object that immediately seized Link’s attention. Set atop a wide wooden platform to his left glowed a squat, bronzed pedestal. Its light came from a series of constellations etched on the pedestal’s surface. Directly above it hovered a stalactite made of obsidian-like stone with Sheikah runes carved along its length.

Link’s fixation on the familiar object was interrupted by the same girly voice he had heard outside.

“Nice, isn’t it?”

Startled, Link turned and found the source of the juvenile tones. Standing atop a wooden bench near the biggest — and messiest — table in the house, was a girl of no more than six or seven years old. A white coat flared over a dark blue skirt that stopped just shy of her stubby little knees, below which stretched long blue socks ending inside a pair of tiny blue shoes.

It was the girl’s face, however, that caused Link to think hard. Overlarge round eyes with soft red irises gazed at him from behind a round pair of red spectacles. Completely white eyebrows complemented a head full of equally white hair done up in a bun, which was topped by a curious piece of bronze headwear.

It was not the strangeness of the girl’s appearance, however, that had Link wracking his brain. Finally, he remembered.

“I saw you!” he spluttered. “In the village, the day before the Ganonspawn attacked!”

The girl gave him a winning smile that would have set any parent aglow.

“Right first time, Linky!” she praised. “Looks like a century’s worth of sleep hasn’t made you any dumber! That’s worth noting!”

With that, the little girl immediately scrunched her face over a small notebook and began scribbling furiously with a quill. Brigo unsuccessfully tried to turn an abrupt fit of laughter into a cough, while Dorian simply stared with his mouth agape at the absurdity of it all.

Completely nonplussed, Link tried to think up an appropriate response when a polite cough sounded from the far corner of the house. The trio was so taken aback by the girl’s appearance and greeting that they had failed to notice an elderly Sheikah man thumbing through a book near an overstuffed bookshelf. Narrow, rectangular spectacles framed a kindly face adorned with a thin white beard and the usual white Sheikah hair held up in a bun. Like many of his kind in Kakariko, the man wore cream trousers and coat over a close-fitting tunic of dark blue. Despite his scholarly appearance, Link thought he looked fit enough to do more than throw books at a would-be attacker.

Now, however, the man’s expression was merely apologetic.

“Please excuse Ms. Purah,” he said kindly, but with a look of someone beseeching no small amount of patience and understanding. “As the Hateno Ancient Tech lab director, she is the world’s foremost authority on ancient Hyrule culture. In her current state, however, she can appear to be a bit…”

“Director!” Dorian yelped. “Her? But, you can’t mean—“

“Don’t coddle them, Symin!” the girl snapped peevishly from the depths of her notebook. “That’s exactly what my sister would do, and you’re better than that! Impa thinks she knows what’s best, but _I_ say that—“

“ _Sister?”_ Dorian spluttered. “What do you mean…? She can’t be…? _How?_ ”

The girl finally deigned to stop writing and looked up at the trio, all of which wore even more shocked expressions than when they had first entered.

“ _Yes_ ,” she began huffily, “I am Purah — Ms. Purah to you — Director of the Hateno Ancient Tech Lab of Hyrule. Impa is my sister and _you_ ,” she added pointedly while looking directly at Link, “are Link, wielder of The Sword That Seals The Darkness, knight of Hyrule, Hylian Champion and chosen protector of Princess Zelda. To me, however, you will always be Linky, an adorably quiet boy with the table manners of a starving Goron.”

If anything, Purah’s last words floored Link more than her first. _Linky?_ Brigo’s cough had apparently worsened. Link tried to focus.

“I assume Impa told you I was coming,” he began. “I will admit, I didn’t expect—“

“Impa! Impa! Impa!” the girl whined in a sickly sweet voice. “Why does everyone want to talk about my sister! She’s not that special! _She_ didn’t unlock the secrets of the Sheikah Slate! _She_ didn’t put it and you in the Shrine of Resurrection! _She—“_

Now it was Link’s turn to interrupt.

“Wait! Wait! Wait!” he protested while taking a few steps toward Purah. Even in his flustered state, however, he did not fail to see Symin retrieve a curved Sheikah sword from behind a pile of books. Link stopped himself a couple of steps short of the director, who was gazing at him in shock. Still, he had to restrain himself from giving full vent to his frustration. After expecting the same sort of wisely mysterious games he had received from Impa, this juvenile brand of confusion was infuriating.

“What do you mean _you_ put me in the Shrine of Resurrection?” Link demanded. “You wouldn’t have been a thought in your grandmother’s heart! Tell me what you know, girl, but do not trifle with me after what I have suffered the last fortnight!”

Silence, coiled and ready to spring, dominated the room. Symin’s eyes were narrowed to slits. He no longer pretended to conceal his weapon. The Sheikah’s hand visibly gripped the hilt and was a breath away from drawing the blade free. Brigo was not laughing, but instead nervously fingering his spear. Dorian looked desperately between Link, Symin and Purah, clearly torn as to where his loyalties lay.

Purah, however, simply gawked at him with childish eyes as wide as they could go. Her girlish lashes enhanced the effect, and Link was suddenly aware that he had shouted at a child.

“Sissy told me you had changed, but I didn’t expect this,” she said slowly. “I must make a note — no. No, clearly, I must help you first. Symin! Please take notes while we talk. I do not want to forget anything that might help my research later!”

The Sheikah’s hand left the sword hilt at once. With a perfect bow to Purah, Symin pulled up a chair, removed his own notebook from inside his coat and began scribbling furiously. Purah gestured to the bench on the opposite side of the table.

“Please, sit,” she said in clipped tones. “I assume these two are your friends, Linky, otherwise you would not have brought them with you.”

Link nodded without hesitation, and he could almost feel the tension leave his companions. “I trust Brigo and Dorian with my life, Purah. And it is _Link._ ” He had only just regained that name, and from Zelda herself. He would not have it changed to something so ridiculous so soon after acquiring it. Purah greeted his insistence with an impatient wave of her tiny hand.

“Yes, yes, yes,” she said hurriedly. “ _Link_ , then. Brigo? I’ll find out later how a Hebran came this far southeast. And Dorian, you’re awfully young and eager for one of my ‘brothers,’ aren’t you? Still, no matter. Yes, yes, yes, sit _down.”_

The trio finally took their seats opposite of Purah, who was sifting through her books for a specific volume. Locating it — an especially thick and weathered edition — she flipped it open toward the end while murmuring rapidly to herself. After but a moment, she looked up at them with those enormous eyes. _Like a baby owl_ , Link thought irritably.

“You two will have to be patient,” Purah sternly issued to Brigo and Dorian. “What I have to say is for Link and Link alone. Do not interrupt me with questions! Link, if you have one, I may or may not choose to answer. That’s up to me. Got it? Good.”

Link’s eyes narrowed, a fact which did not go unnoticed by the director.

“At least I told you, didn’t I?” Purah challenged him. “I doubt sissy was as honest with you, was she?”

Link could not help but exhale at that. Impa had made every pretense of knowing all while telling extremely little. Satisfied that her point and terms were accepted, Purah continued.

“Some of what I will say depends on the facts, otherwise I could give you false or useless information,” she said in clipped tones. “That being said, I must ask you questions along the way. Now then, _Link,_ I take it that you do not, in fact, remember me? And by me, I mean a person named Purah, not a six-year-old girl.”

Slightly confused, Link wracked his brain for any sign of familiarity. As with nearly everything else, however, his mind was devoid of any concrete memory from before his long sleep. He shook his head, saving the time words would require so Purah could get on with her story.

“Hmmm,” she mused. “Well, I have to say _Link_ , I’m a little hurt. As I said before, I was the one who took you to the Shrine of Resurrection after Calamity Ganon fatally wounded you. Clearly, that fact requires some explanation for you to accept it. Very well, then.”

Purah leaned forward, her tiny hands splayed on the table and her eyes wide with the light of a child about to impart an extraordinary tale.

“I am one hundred twenty-three years old.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How many of us have thought/said some version of, "If I could go back knowing what I know now..."? I'm not sure we realize that we would still convey that knowledge with all the tact of that younger self. That was the fun of writing out Purah's character. Cramming 123 years of wisdom into a six-year-old was daunting, but it also bred some of the most naturally enjoyable dialogue to date. Link enters a Sheikah abode expecting a watershed moment of wisdom and enlightenment, only to see it countered by one of least inspiring sights/sounds/impressions imaginable.
> 
> If this introduction to Purah is the appetizer, the next chapter is the main course, which both figuratively and literally has a lot more meat to it. Those of you who have played the BOTW game may recall her journal. Keep that in mind heading into Saturday. As always, feel free to drop a comment about what you like, dislike or are just plain thinking. Thanks so much for your precious time in reading. Hope life is treating you well. -- MattWords


	4. Youth and Wisdom

At first, Link was not sure whether he should laugh or be angry. The thought of this girl being over a century old was insane. It was ludicrous. It was… roughly the same as his own age.

“Were you also in a Shrine of Resurrection?” Link demanded.

The one-hundred-twenty-three-year-old girl shook her head. “Nope! Unlike yours, my youth is the result of… well, other means. But I’ll get to that!”

“I’m sure she ruddy will,” Brigo muttered incredulously. Symin stopped scribbling in his notebook long enough to give the patrolman a look of extreme disapproval, which caused Brigo to lend Purah more respectful attention than he would have given his own mother.

“ _Anyway_ ,” Purah said with a scowl at Brigo before returning her focus to Link, “you’ve probably guessed that we’re roughly the same age. Well, that’s true! It’s why we’re friends, or,” she added with a definite pout, “why we _were_ friends, Linky.”

Dorian shifted awkwardly next to Link. It was clear the young Sheikah was not all that comfortable with the hero of legend being referred to as “Linky.” And though Link still heartily disliked the moniker, he was beginning to realize the sincerity behind its use.

“We knew each other?” he asked.

His consideration had not gone unnoticed. Purah gave him a beaming smile.

“Why yes!” she exclaimed. “You don’t think you learned everything about swordplay from the Imperial Guard? Sheikah swordmasters also took a hand in your training! Well, they and your father, I suppose. He was also quite skilled, from what I remember—“

“You knew my father?” Link burst out. “What was he like? Did the Calamity kill him? What happened—“

Purah halted Link’s avalanche of questions with her tiny, upraised arms. “I am sorry, Linky, but I did not know him well at all. He died well before you took up The Sword That Seals The Darkness, and that happened before you became Zelda’s appointed knight. All I know is he was a member of the Imperial Guard, the highest honor for a knight of Hyrule… well, until you came along, anyway.”

Link sat back, his mind whirling. His father had been a knight as well. One of renown and honor. The highest honor. It warmed the emptiest part of him, like fire placed in a cold torch bracket. He was no longer the orphan child of a Sheikah shrine, bereft of all sense of title and inheritance. At the very least, he was a knight, like his father before him.

Link’s eyes began to sting. He hurriedly wiped his face with the back of his wrist, ignoring Purah’s pitying gaze.

“You were right to reprimand me earlier, Link,” she said softly. It was odd to hear such adult-like empathy from the girlish voice. “I underestimated your suffering.”

Link merely nodded, trying to recall what Purah had been saying before the topic of his father had arisen. He would dwell on that again later, when time and solitude allowed for such emotions.

“Yes, well,” Purah finally resumed, “as I was saying, we knew each other well due to your training with the Sheikah. I was a young woman, then, and I can tell you a lot of my girlfriends were really hoping to marry you. The swordmasters agreed they had never met anyone as skilled with a blade as you. Luckily for you, I was far more interested in scholarly pursuits, otherwise you would never have stood a chance. I was considered quite beautiful, back then.”

Purah was positively preening, but Link thought he could understand why. She was an undeniably adorable child. If she was truly as old as she said — and now reverted back to a girl of six — the prime of her life was undoubtedly a source of bittersweet pride.

“Be that as it may,” Purah continued, “you did not seem especially interested in romance at the time. You were the quietest boy I ever knew, even after we became friends. I studied at the castle often, you see. You were only fourteen when King Rhoam made you a member of the Guard, so I saw you quite a bit.”

“Why did Impa not tell me any of this?” Link interrupted. “If she is your sister, she would have seen and known of me.”

“Believe it or not, Impa is my _younger_ sister,” Purah answered smugly. “She’s only one hundred twenty. Still, she was always the serious one, while I was quite fascinated by all the Sheikah technology Rhoam was digging up at the time. The Divine Beasts, the Guardians, the Sheikah Slate… I might as well have been a child set loose in a sweets shop.”

The director stopped at this and glanced distractedly at Symin, who was still writing as fast as possible in his notebook.

“Sweets,” Purah murmured. “Symin, do we have any sweets? I really want some sweets. Can I have some sweets?”

The elderly Sheikah rose and immediately went over to Purah. He knelt so he could speak easily to her as an adult might to a child.

“I will fetch you some sweets as soon as we are done helping Sir Link, Ms. Purah,” Symin said gently. “Please finish telling him what he needs to know, then you may have some sweets.”

Purah pouted slightly, appearing as though she might protest in truly childish fashion. Eventually, however, she turned back toward Link and his companions with a slight expression of irritation.

“I like chocolate sweets,” Purah grumbled. She brightened up, however, once she resumed the topic at hand. “Where was I? Oh yes! Rhoam was unearthing ancient Sheikah technology in preparation for Calamity Ganon’s return. Sissy was much too concerned with that — and Princess Zelda — to be bothered with a sword-swinging boy.”

Link nodded quietly while inwardly reflecting on Purah’s behavior. Her youth was not just physical, it appeared. Symin, who was now looking up often from his writing to check on the director, seemed to confirm this. Purah went on, completely unaware of her lapse.

“I, however, was around you and the other Champions all the time! Those were fun times. You and Daruk would see who could out-eat the other. Queen Urbosa was like a big sister. I don’t think Revali liked you very much, but Mipha—“

A flash of sweet pain. A constriction in the throat. It was similar to the times Link had heard Zelda’s voice, or when Rhoam had first mentioned Ganon’s name. Memory’s emotion had overtaken him then, and it was doing so now. Mipha. Link felt as though something wonderful was hidden just out of sight, which only made his heart ache all the more.

His head swimming, Link wrenched his attention back to Purah, who had continued unabated.

“... by the time the Calamity came, it was too late,” she said sadly. “I was here when it happened. A good thing, too. Ganon’s rage stopped short of Hateno — you probably saw the ruins at the fort, huh? — so my research lab and I were safe. That’s where some of my Sheikah brothers brought you after you’d been wounded.”

“Here?” Link asked, looking around. “Not the Shrine of Resurrection?”

“Yes!” Purah confirmed happily. “Only Zelda and I knew the shrine’s location, and she had gone back to Hyrule Castle by then. Before she left, she told the Sheikah to bring you here, since I knew where the shrine was. You were a mess. Covered in wounds, nearly dead...we had a job keeping you alive long enough just to get you to the shrine!”

“If ‘e was that close to dyin’, why bring ‘im here when yeh had to take ‘im back west to the plateau?” Brigo interrupted. “That’s at least four days on foot, never mind the Ganonspawn that were swimmin’ aroun’ the fort and Ash Swamp. Ain’t another way to get there from here, either.”

Confused, Link removed the Sheikah Slate from the hooks on his belt and looked at the map. The Shrine of Resurrection, which lay within an oval-shaped rise of land labeled “The Great Plateau” near the center of the map, was marked by a blue diamond near the center of the map. The yellow arrow marking his own location lay far to the east, overlapping a small square labeled “Hateno Village.” Then he looked at the area between them, until he finally found the path running through the partially forested “Fort Hateno.”

Brigo was right. It made no sense. Purah, however, had stood up on her bench, put her tiny fists on her hips and was tapping her foot in a highly irritated manner.

“First of all, I said you weren’t allowed to ask me any questions! Only Linky!” she reminded them huffily. “Second, of course there’s another way! It’s right there!”

Purah was pointing a small finger at Link’s slate. Brigo and Dorian craned their heads for a better look. Link wondered if they could see what she meant. The patrolman snorted.

“If yer tellin’ meh yeh hauled Link half-dead south ‘round Ebon Mountain and circled back north to Marblod, yeh must have Hylia’s own luck,” the patrolman insisted. “That strip o’ rock between Ebon and the ocean is a ruddy death trap, not to mention the extra two or three days it took yeh’ to go that way. It’s a wonder Link is still alive an’ with us!”

Purah countered the patrolman’s expertise by rolling her eyes dramatically, for all the world as if he were a clueless dunce. Link was wondering whether the director had suffered another childish slip when she snatched the slate from his hands and began touching its surface repeatedly.

“Aha!” she muttered. “I see. Yes, well, this explains why the Hebran is nattering on like a Hatenoan housewife.”

Brigo opened his mouth furiously, but Link cut off his retort with a boot to his shin. Purah had clambered down from her bench and was approaching the pedestal he had seen upon first entering. Like so many of its kind he had already encountered, the device contained a rectangular hole perfectly sized for the slate. At the towers, the stalactite above the pedestal distilled information for the map. In a different shrine at the plateau, they had given the slate additional powers. What would this pedestal do?

Without hesitation, Purah inserted the slate into its awaiting slot. The pedestal’s surface rotated until the slate was now laying down horizontally, its smooth, black surface facing up. The stalactite began to glow. Blue runes coursed down its length like water, coalescing at the blunt tip until they began to form a tangible drop of blue liquid.

Dorian gasped, while Brigo gave a low whistle. Link realized that despite their travels together, neither of his friends had actually seen the phenomenon take place before. The drop, which had hung precariously from the stalactite, fell onto the slate with a small splash. A lifeless, monotonous voice sounded from the pedestal.

“ _Transfer complete. Gate travel now available.”_

Without a word, Purah removed the slate, which the pedestal had proffered up after completing its task. She clambered back onto her bench and placed it on the table, where Link hesitantly reached out to take it.

The map was once again visible. Nothing appeared to have changed. He wondered briefly whether the pedestal had done anything at all.

“Ugh, I expected more from you, Linky,” Purah groaned. “Tap the Shrine of Resurrection!”

Slightly offended at Purah’s impatience but curious nonetheless, Link did as he was told. As had happened before, small words appeared next to the blue diamond after pressing it with his index finger. “Shrine of Resurrection,” they read. This time, however, something else appeared: a small rectangle below the location’s name, inside which was a single word.

“Travel?” Link asked, bemused.

“Yes,” Purah said proudly. “I’d love to meet the brother or sister who thought this up. Any activated Sheikah structure — they show up blue on the slate — can be traveled to instantly via the slate’s power! _That_ is how I got you to the Shrine of Resurrection from here!”

And with that, the Director of the Hateno Ancient Tech Lab of Hyrule looked at Brigo and stuck out her tongue.

Link’s mind raced. The possibilities…

“So if we needed to be in Kakariko tonight,” he began.

“No, no, no!” Purah protested. “Just you! The slate can only transport one person at a time.”

“Then how did you take Link to the shrine, then?” Dorian interrupted eagerly. “Or did it deposit him directly where he needed to be? But wait, you said _you_ brought him—“

“Will you let me finish?” Purah was almost apoplectic with impatience. Link was reminded forcibly of a child desperately waiting for her turn to speak. “That slate,” she continued, pointing at the device in Link’s hands, “belonged to Princess Zelda. She was smart enough to leave it with you, Linky, before returning to Hyrule Castle. I managed to make a second one -- basic, but functional -- for me. You were unconscious, but the slate doesn’t care. It will carry whoever’s finger touches the travel command. I pressed your slate with your finger, then used mine to take me!”

Link sat back, wondering at the brilliance of it all. Instant travel for the slate carrier. Then he thought he saw a flaw.

“But, if I can only go to places that were activated, how were you able to go to the Shrine of Resurrection, much less return here?”

“Silly Linky,” Purah said seriously. “Look at the map again. Your marker’s probably covering part of it up.”

Link did look again, and realized the yellow arrow indicating his location was indeed partially covering up a new addition to the map: a blue diamond at the eastern edge of Hateno Village. Touching it with his finger, the words “Hateno Ancient Tech Lab” appeared. Then his mind recalled something he had seen moments before.

“The bronze circle outside…,” he murmured.

“There ya go!” Purah said in a congratulatory manner. “Those are the gateways. I’m assuming the towers have them, since they started showing up on my slate a few days ago. Ours are linked,” she explained. “Whatever you activate appears on my slate too. Neat, huh?”

Link could only nod in agreement. Now he understood the unusual forge outside and the meaning of the blue fire and lights at every Sheikah structure he had seen. Much like fire fueled a torch, that blue light fueled the ancient technology. He was awestruck at the genius and power of it all.

“This still do no explain why yeh look six red rupees short o’ yer age, lass,” Brigo moodily interjected.

“Yes, well, as to that,” Purah answered loftily, “after I put Linky in the shrine, it was impossible to say how long he’d _stay_ there. We’d never used it before. We knew what it was supposed to do, but there was no telling how long it would take or what side effects he would suffer. But now we do!” she added cheerfully. “You’re in perfect health and have no memories!”

“Ms. Purah,” Symin murmured. “Please continue.”

“Ah, yes,” Purah mused, as though trying to recapture her train of thought. “Well, we were basically left waiting, weren’t we? We knew Zelda was keeping naughty old Ganon at bay, but we also knew we needed Linky to finish the job. But years passed. Decades. A century. I… I wasn’t sure you were coming back.”

Link was startled to see tears well up in the director’s eyes. And though by all appearances Purah was a six-year-old about to burst into tears, he realized she still carried a lifetime’s worth of grief within.

Symin laid a gentle hand on Purah’s shoulder. She reached and held onto that hand, for all the world like a child accepting the comfort of a parent. The director gulped back her tears, then continued.

“We knew Ganon was -- getting stronger,” Purah said between hiccups. “Sissy wanted to keep waiting. I didn’t. I wanted us to -- to prepare for the worst. We don’t have many warriors left. I decided to steal a page from Ganon’s book. Instead of old bones brought back to life, I wanted to make our old warriors young again!”

Link’s eyes widened in alarm. Brigo chewed his lip in anticipation, while Dorian had his chin in his hands, completely mesmerized at the tale’s unfolding.

“Because I wasn’t sure if the Shrine of Resurrection had actually _worked,_ I decided to make a _new_ rune on my slate. An anti-aging rune!”

Purah was momentarily glowing with the excitement of her remembered research. Symin had stopped writing and closed his eyes, his expression pained.

“Well, it took me a few years, but I did it!” the director doggedly continued. “But after Linky, I wasn’t going to let anybody try it before me. If it worked, great. If not, it wouldn’t hurt anyone but me. Symin helped me. He booted up the rune, pointed the slate so the rays hit my body. It only made me really tired, so I just went to bed.

“The next morning,” Purah added with triumph, “I looked like a Sheikah woman in her fifties.”

Dorian gasped in delight, while Brigo gave another low whistle of amazement. Link, however, was troubled. He thought he could see the tale’s bitter end, and his heart broke in advance of the telling.

“My hair was thick and down to the floor,” Purah continued, her gaze now focused on something only she could see. “My wrinkles were gone. I didn’t expect it to work so well! Or so fast.”

The director’s excitement faltered at that last statement. Symin was silently weeping.

“The third day, I felt like I’d slept the best I had in years,” Purah resumed with a smile, but her fingers were drumming the table. “I looked in the mirror and saw I was even younger! Symin ran some tests and concluded I had the body of a Sheikah woman in her thirties!”

Dorian was no longer entranced by Purah’s story. Now his expressions was one of horror. Brigo was looking at her as though he had discovered something gross and unnatural. Link felt numb.

“On day four, I looked like I had when I knew you, Linky,” Purah said quietly. “The same hair. Same youth. Had I gone to the village below or even to Kakariko, every single man would have proposed to me on the spot. I was so beautiful. So beautiful.”

Symin was holding his face in his hands, tears coursing between his fingers. Link felt a rush of shame. He had been blissfully asleep for the century’s worth of aging he had missed while Purah, the woman responsible for his being alive today, had lived her own nightmare wide awake.

“By day six,” she whispered, gesturing to her six-year-old body, “I looked like this. I couldn’t reach things on the shelf anymore. I couldn’t write like I used to. I couldn’t—“

“Enough!”

Symin had stood up, pride and grief mingling in his tear-stained features.

“Enough,” he repeated, this time more calmly. “Please, Ms. Purah, it is nighttime. You need your rest. Go to sleep, then we can see our friends tomorrow morning.”

The Director of the Hateno Ancient Tech Lab of Hyrule looked at her assistant with a bemused expression, then rubbed her eyes and yawned.

“You’re right, Symin,” she murmured drowsily. “It’s time for sleep. G’night, Linky. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

With that, Symin lifted Purah into his arms and carried her out the door.

 

* * *

 

The three friends did not speak during the brief interval between Purah and Symin’s departure and the latter’s return. Each of them was still reeling from the director’s tale, and none more than Link. He could not help thinking of the Shrine of Resurrection. It had seemed so strange and foreign to him upon awakening. Until now, he had never considered it dangerous.

Now, however, Link found himself wondering what would have happened had the shrine not functioned as planned. Like the Divine Beasts. Or Purah’s anti-aging rune. The Sheikah were renowned for their use and wisdom of technology. When that strength failed — or worse, turned on its creators — the results were disastrous.

It was on this dark vein of thought the group dwelled when Symin re-entered the house. His tears were gone, replaced by the calm he had exhibited when the companions had first arrived. Before Link or his friends could say anything, the elder Sheikah held up his hands in supplication.

“I beg forgiveness for cutting your conversation short,” Symin said in way that told Link he was not merely being polite. “It has been a difficult few weeks for both of us, and I would not see Ms. Purah suffer more than she already has.”

Dorian immediately rose from his seat and went over to Symin, where the younger Sheikah grasped the elder’s hands. He bent his head over those clasped hands, speaking with eyes closed.

“You have committed no wrong this day, brother,” Dorian said intently. “May Hylia’s grace be payment enough for whatever debt your heart still carries.”

Symin’s eyes immediately began to water, and Link and Brigo casually looked away so as not to embarrass the man after what had already been a long day.

“Thank you, brother,” he said kindly while lifting Dorian to his feet. “It is truly a pleasure to see one of my own again.” Then he turned and gave a formal Sheikah bow to the two still seated at the table. “Master Link, Master Brigo, you do your families and your people proud. I am honored to be in your company.”

Link and Brigo rose from their bench and returned Symin’s formality, which seemed to please him even more. Then the Sheikah’s expression grew serious.

“Master Link, I know you did not come here to learn of Ms. Purah’s fate,” Symin said. “Rest assured that first thing on the morrow, yours will be the first and only business to which we attend.”

Link shook the Sheikah’s hand without the slightest hint of disappointment. Unlike his first meeting with Impa, he was not thinking of questions that had yet to be answered.

“What Purah said tonight allows me to believe what she will tell me tomorrow, Symin,” Link said earnestly. “Until then.”

Symin’s tremulous smile of gratitude seemed a sufficient reply, so Link and his friends quietly exited the lab. A clear and starry night sky greeted them, though the blue-lit torches provided plenty of light for the trio to descend the hill in safety. Each man kept his peace until they were settling in at Hateno’s inn.

“What do yeh think, lad?” Brigo asked while removing his boots at the side of his bed. “Does the wee lass — er, lady’s — story strike yer fancy?”

Link nodded thoughtfully, thinking of the book Purah had opened but ultimately not consulted. “She knows more of what I must do,” he said as he burrowed into his blankets. “I believe we will find out what on the morrow. After that, I intend to return to Impa and hear the answers she promised me. Then, the time for learning will be done and the time for doing come.”

Before blowing out his bedside candle, Brigo nodded toward the bed on the other side of Link. Dorian had been unusually quiet since hearing Purah’s tale, and Link thought he understood why. Infatuated with the histories and marvels of his people, the young Sheikah had now seen up close the demise of those things he most highly esteemed.

_Ganon_ , Link thought. _It all stems from him_. Were it not for his partially successful return, the Sheikah’s ancient technology would not have been turned against its creators. Link would not have needed the Shrine of Resurrection, which had left him searching for the memories that so completely eluded him. Purah would never have resorted to such desperate means to forestall Ganon’s coming.

Link did not disturb his younger friend. Who was he to do so? As a Sheikah, Dorian knew far more of the subject than Link ever could. Instead, he tried to ignore his own questions that still clamored to be answered and resign himself to sleep.

 

* * *

 

The trio made the short journey from the inn to the Hateno Ancient Tech Lab at first light the following morning. Little was said at breakfast, which was consumed as efficiently as possible.

Truth be told, Link hardly tasted his bread and cheese. Purah’s tale had, in its own odd way, confirmed that here at last was a place of answers. If the appetizer was knowing his father’s lineage had been passed down to his son, Link could not wait for the main course.

Dorian remained introspective, while Brigo appeared to be respecting the internal emotions of both his friends. In this unintentional cone of silence, the companions arrived once again at the sigil-marked door of the unusual Sheikah abode.

“Come on in, Linky!” Purah’s cheerful voice answered to Link’s knocking. Upon opening the door, he saw that the diminutive director was seated exactly where she had spent the majority of the previous evening: at one of the benches before the largest table.

Link also noticed the well-worn book before her once more, heightening his already nervous expectations. He and his friends resumed their seats on the opposite side of the table. Symin once again pulled up a chair to just outside the other four’s circle of conversation, close enough to overhear and take accurate notes.

Purah, her round red eyes as bright as ever, beamed at the three of them through her circular spectacles. She showed no signs of the childlike distraction or fatigue that had ultimately ended the previous day’s discourse.

“I am glad you’re back!” she exclaimed. “Apparently I got so wrapped up in my own story I didn’t get to yours, Linky! Or, at least, how to find it!”

Despite himself, Link leaned forward. Brigo and Dorian appeared curious as well.

“Now then, Linky,” Purah demurred while poring over a specific page in the sizable tome, “do you have any memory at all of visiting the ancient springs?”

Frowning, Link tried to see if thinking of a spring in general would spark anything. It didn’t. He shook his head.

“I thought you wouldn’t,” Purah said with satisfaction. “No matter. The point is, I know for a fact you accompanied Zelda to each of them. The springs, you see, represent the power of the Goddess bestowed to the kingdom of Hyrule: wisdom, power, and courage. Zelda, you see, would have gone — and did go — to each of them in order to train for her role in confronting Ganon.”

As she explained this, Purah turned the dusty volume to face Link and his friends. Centered on the page was a symbol Link had seen before, one that was even now stitched on the back of his cloak: a pyramid of three golden triangles. At each point was illustrated a small pool encircled by what appeared to be serpents with wings. Each was a different color and depicted using different elements. The blue serpent spat what appeared to be snowflakes from its mouth. The red serpent was wreathed in fire. Lightning encased the third serpent, which was yellow in color.

Dorian was fascinated. “These,” he asked while pointing to each of the serpents, “are the spirit dragons, are they not, Lady Purah?”

The director nodded happily. “Oh, you are well-learned for such a little brother, aren’t you?” Dorian blushed at her praise. “Yes, the spirit dragons were commissioned by Hylia herself to guard the springs since their creation. No one has seen them in over ten millennia, but I suppose there’s a first time for everything!”

Link was not sure how to take that, and Brigo looked positively befuddled.

“Is Link supposed to find the ruddy beasts, then?” the patrolman asked quizzically.

“No, no, no, silly,” Purah admonished. “That was just a little background knowledge! It’s always good to have some, don’t you think? No, it’s the springs that are important, and for two reasons! First, as I said before, I know Link was at each of them with Zelda. There’s a good chance that if he journeys to each one, either at the springs themselves or on the way, he’ll see something that jogs his memory! We can’t very well just send him to the Hyrule Castle ruins for that -- that place is crawling with Guardians, you know -- so I figure this is the next best thing! Going to these springs was significant for Zelda, so there’s a very good chance it would have been for Link as well!”

Link’s heart began to race. It made sense.

“What’s the second reason?” Dorian interrupted. He, too, appeared rejuvenated at the progress this conversation was producing.

“Well, as young and impressive as Linky still looks, I must admit he just isn’t the same without The Sword That Seals The Darkness,” Purah said sadly, as though Link had fallen short of her own expectations. “As far as pieces of metal go, that one looked pretty good on him! More importantly,” she added in a tone as serious as a six-year-old could manage, “he can’t beat Ganon without it.”

“Rhoam said as much on the plateau,” Link agreed. “But he didn’t know where it is. Do you?”

To his disappointment, Purah shook her head. “The Sword’s location was a mystery before it presented itself to you, Linky, nor was it with you when you were brought to me unconscious and nearly dead. But don’t worry! No one could find or wield it who wasn’t meant to have it!”

“How do the springs help me to that end, then?” Link wondered aloud. In a way he could not explain, finding the sword seemed as important — and perhaps the same — as finding his memories.

“The Sword is forged by the same powers represented by the springs!” Dorian interrupted triumphantly. His thrill at his own deduction, however, was blunted by the severe look Purah issued him over the top of her spectacles.

“Ahem!” the director harrumphed in an extremely put-out tone. “Yes, as my little brother alluded, the power of the Sword That Seals The Darkness is derived from and dependent on the same powers of the springs: wisdom, power, and courage. I believe if you visit and pray at each one, the Goddess could very well bless you with those powers so that the Sword could present itself to you again. Between those blessings and rediscovering your memories, you should be in the same state you were when the Sword last considered you its master.”

“That still leaves us with the task of finding the springs,” Link said, thinking quickly. “Do you… ?”

To his delight, Purah nodded. “I know the exact location of at least one: the Spring of Wisdom. It sits near the summit of Mount Lanayru, which coincidentally lies just north of here. The location of the other two springs is less exact. I only know that the Spring of Power resides somewhere in the Akkala region and that the Spring of Courage is hidden in the lands of Faron.”

Brigo gave a low whistle of amazement. “Yeh do no be joking about bein’ ‘less exact,’” he said heavily. “The best patrolmen can get lost in those parts, an’ that’s if they’re lucky enough to not be slain by the creatures wot roam there.”

For answer, Purah struck up the now familiar pose of hands on hips accompanied by a stubborn glare. “I don’t know about a patrolman, but I’m sure Linky is up to it!” she squeaked gallantly. “Now, I suggest you try to find the Spring of Wisdom first. After that, you should probably get back to my sissy. You’ll be shocked to know that she has other things for you to do.”

“As important as this?” Link demanded. He was not at all eager to be led about on Impa’s leash just as his own path had finally emerged.

A wisdom much older than six years old answered him from those child-like eyes. “Don’t worry, Linky,” Purah said in the most serious tone he had yet heard from her. “Impa knows what you need to do, some of which _you_ do _not_ yet know. And yes, it is important.”

Link snuck one more glance at the open book. Three triangles. Three springs. Three steps to remembering, truly remembering, who he was. He looked at his friends, each of which seemed to be waiting on him.

“When do we leave?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of the bigger questions I face as the story progresses: which "side quests" are vital to the plot? I remember wrestling with this specific chapter for nearly two weeks, because this is where half of Link's long-term plan is revealed. Everything Purah lays out now has to matter later. Without giving away too much, I felt the springs could serve as the focal point for both Link's memories and his quest to reclaim the Sword. Only time will tell whether you guys feel it was mapped out well.
> 
> The idea of Impa being an amusing (if accidentally transformed) child is fun, and I hope you laughed at least a little to yourself upon reading some of her retorts/exchanges. I also felt a cold splash of reality was needed to make her a more realistic character. Her journal, which can be found in the game itself, provided the ammunition I needed to make that happen. Modern-day movies often reflect the horror of science gone wrong. That's exactly what happened with Purah, and I felt I'd be remiss to not address its effect on her.
> 
> One last thing I enjoyed in writing this chapter: Link's brushes with his past. Mentions of his father and Mipha provide some foreshadowing of what he will later and more fully confront. Here's hoping those confrontations meet your expectations. As always, feel welcome to leave a comment and (if you find Book Two to your liking so far) subscribe. Hope life is treating you well! -- MattWords


	5. Farewells and Welcomes

It took all of Brigo and Dorian’s persuasive powers to convince Link they should not leave for Mount Lanayru until the following morning.

“This is no ruddy spring outing on Ovli Plain,” the patrolman admonished none too politically. “I mehself ‘ave never climbed Lanayru, an’ I’m no about to rush into it ill-prepared.”

“The altitude will be as bad as the cold, Master Link,” the Sheikah added earnestly. “I have a remedy or two that will aid the journey, but I will need the rest of the day to prepare them.”

And then there was Purah, ticking a small index finger in Link’s direction in a way that reminded him just how young and inexperienced he was compared to her, no matter that she looked fifteen years her junior.

“You’ll do Zelda no good dying on Mount Lanayru just because you weren’t willing to wait half a day to do this right, Linky!” she squeaked. “Listen to your friends! I must say, it’s nice to see you have some!”

That curious comment did nothing for Link’s impatience, but even he could see the wisdom in his companions’ advice. Reluctantly, he bid the director and her assistant farewell for the day.

“Oh don’t worry, we’ll see you off tomorrow morning in the Retsam Forest below,” Purah told him cheerfully. “You know, that group of trees you thinned out so ruthlessly before the battle? Yes, I’m sure you know those are _my_ trees. Seeing as how they helped you save the village and all that, I guess I can forgive you. Anyway, that’s near enough where you’ll start up Lanayru. See you then, Linky!”

Still dubious over everyone’s willingness to put off his journey another day, Link nonetheless followed his friends back to the village just as the sun began descending from its midday zenith. The sky was completely cloudless. Between that and the peacefully magnificent view of the village from the Tech Lab’s hilltop, the trio was immediately cheered after spending the morning and previous evening inside the cluttered Sheikah abode.

That feeling increased as they entered the main part of the village. The majority of battle-related repairs appeared to be complete, and the villagers were consequently in a very social and jolly mood. The sight of their three heroes together gave that mood a focal point, and it seemed everyone wanted to hail the trio if not personally shake each of them by the hand.

Between mourning the dead and journeying to the Sheikah tower, this was Link’s first exposure to the praise of those he had willingly defended just three days ago. It was both uncomfortable and heartwarming to the young swordsman. He did not feel deserving of adulation for something he felt was the duty to which he was already bound. At the same time, this people’s open gratitude directly assailed the guilt he had heaped upon himself since awakening on the Great Plateau. It felt warm and filling compared to the unforgiving cold in which he had wrapped himself.

Dorian was nearly as awkward in receiving such profuse thanks as Link, but he managed to do so with as much dignity and reserved kindness as his people would have expected of him. Brigo more made up for his friends, loudly proclaiming his deeds as “nothing” while managing to mention one or two incredible specifics in the same breath.

“Think nothin’ of it, lassie!” he loudly replied to an especially attractive farm girl. “I’d go toe-to-toe with a pair o’ moblins every day and twice tomorrow if it meant yeh bein’ safe from their gapin’ jaws an’ spiked clubs!”

Brigo’s antics only served to slow them down while attracting even more attention, until it seemed the entire village was craning to get a look at the three of them. Link was beginning to wonder whether their preparations would indeed be complete today when Reede shouldered his way through the throng. The village head came prepared with a small gong, which he held aloft on a string, and a mallet. He struck the instrument several times until the hubbub subsided.

“Everyone! Everyone!” Reede bellowed. “You are indeed right to honor those who so willingly came to our aid!” He paused to allow the cheer that met his words. “Now it is our turn to aid them. Unfortunately, our heroes will be leaving us on the morrow. With that being said, I think it is only fitting we send them off with hearts and bellies full. Tonight, we will have a feast in their honor!”

A roar greeted the village head’s announcement. Men and women scattered to make preparations, their little ones either scampering eagerly to help or frantically trying to escape the sudden deluge of last-minute tasks being heaped upon them. In the midst of all the activity, Link looked questioningly at the bearded man.

“How did you know we were leaving?” he asked wonderingly..

Reede smiled knowingly. “Call it a village head’s intuition,” he quipped before adding more seriously, “You are men of action, only now returned from a secret meeting with secretive people. Though you are welcome here always, I would be foolish to think you were not needed elsewhere. You will not, however, leave without the gratitude you deserve.”

Each of the trio replied in his own way. Dorian issued the perpendicular bow of his people. Brigo clapped his hands, his eyes glowing at the thought of so much food and praise in one sitting. Link, however, simply returned Reede’s smile with his own, as well as a firm grasping of the village head’s forearm.

“You are a wise man,” Link said quietly, “but more importantly, a good one. It will be our honor to remain here one night more.”

 

* * *

 

The rest of that day made Link wonder whether, even if he could have remembered, he had ever experienced such happiness around him. Each villager seemed intent on contributing whatever his or her expertise was to the feast, and they were eager to give Link a sneak preview of their offerings.

“Sir Link!” cried one village wife. “Have a taste of these stuffed peppers! No better spice flavor in all of the Necluda!”

He had no sooner finished sampling that than when an elderly villager hailed him from across the path.

“I say, Sir Link!” he warbled. “My fried wild greens will put a glint in your eye and strength in your body! You’ll need them for more heroic deeds that surely await you!”

Even a small girl child hurried up to him, wildly waving an overly large spoon toward his face.

“Sir Link! Sir Link!” she squeaked. “You taste my soup, okay? It yummy!”

How could he refuse? Allowing the girl to lead him to her house nearby, Link was forced to admit that children held a special place in his heart. He remembered Sagessa’s children, how their fearful gazes had fueled his desire to aid Hateno as quickly as possible. Now they and these children could lead normal lives once more, free from the fear that had gripped this haven of peace.

The pigtailed little girl was positively beaming when she introduced an embarrassed Link to her parents. They were just as effusive in their own welcome, however, jointly echoing their daughter’s plea to sample the contents of a large, steep pot simmering over the fire behind their home.

Link obliged, and was immediately glad he had. The meaty stew was delicious. He thanked them profusely before leaving as the girl proudly gushed, “See? I _told_ you Sir Link would like my soup!”

Back on the main village path, Link sought out the ever-flamboyant Sayge. He wasn’t hard to find. His home, as it turned out, was really the town shop for odds and ends since those were his passion. The would-be inventor welcomed Link with a magnificent bow of his red-haired head.

“Master Link!” he cried gallantly. “It is so good to see you again! I trust you noticed that the crossbows remain mounted at the village entrance, and will remain so as long as this village stands!”

“That is good,” Link replied sincerely. “They served your village well, Master Sayge, though I pray to Hylia they are not needed again.”

The craftsman nodded agreeably. “Oh yes, of course. Now then, how may I be of service to you this day?”

Link surveyed the inside of the store, which was nearly as cluttered as Purah’s tech lab. Unique fishing poles sprouted from a basket in one corner. Shelves full of metal bits of varying shapes and sizes dominated one wall. A contraption that seemed to do nothing but emit puffs of smoke that immediately disappeared squatted in the middle of the room.

It was the far wall that held Link’s attention. Displayed on a variety of poles, hooks or simply laying on the floor were mismatched pieces of weaponry and armor. One battered breastplate bore what Link recognized as Hyrule’s sigil: a pair of outspread wings, within which was nestled a pyramid of three triangles.

The weapons were more recent additions. Most were the homemade spears the village had used to defend itself just days before. One or two rusted swords were in evidence, as was a mace head with no handle. Only the wooden bows were of fine quality, having been crafted by villagers who took pride in using them for hunting and gamesmanship.

Link was in desperate need of both a blade and a bow. His own sword had been destroyed in the recent battle, while his bow was a less-than-sturdy prize won from a slain bokoblin at the Great Plateau.

“I need your best bow, Master Sayge,” Link said, gesturing to the collection. “And a quiver-full of arrows if there’s any to be had after the battle.”

The enthusiastic craftsman darted over to the row of bows leaning haphazardly against the wall. His long, deft fingers hovered over a few of them briefly before selecting one of the larger editions. Stringing it deftly, he tested its pull before nodding in satisfaction and handing it to Link for inspection.

“This one it must be, Sir Link!” Sayge declared. “I believe young Thadd crafted this, and you’ll find few indeed with more of a knack for the bow and shaft than that lad! As for the arrows, give me but a moment to fetch some from Master Pruce!”

Link nodded gratefully as the red-haired man scurried out. Testing the bow himself, he could not help but agree with Sayge. It was finely built indeed, and would provide far more range than the one with which he had made do.

He frowned, however, at the thought of beginning his journey without a suitable sword. Link had caught himself reaching for a hilt over his shoulder more than once the last few days. Finding nothing had only left him feeling ill at ease. After what Purah had shared, he was beginning to understand why.

The Sword That Seals The Darkness. Where was it now? And would it still accept him as the one to wield it? Purah had spoken of the sword as though it could think and react of its own accord. Link wondered how such a thing could be possible, and how the truth of it would manifest itself — if he was ever lucky enough to find it.

“I thought I would find you here, Master Link.”

Link turned to see Dorian enter the store. He had discarded the leather breastplate with its red eye sigil in favor of the long-sleeved, cream coat and billowing pants Link had seen other Sheikah wear in casual settings.

Dorian looked at the ill-assorted collection of weapons and shook his head. “I should have asked Cado to leave behind a full set for you,” he said with an apologetic look. “Given what you had done, he might have been willing to overlook the need for ceremony.”

Link frowned in puzzlement. “What do you mean, Dorian?”

The young Sheikah nodded toward Link’s right shoulder. “Missing a sword is as bad as missing your memories, isn’t it?” he asked knowingly. “I told you, your story is known among our people. If you are truly one with a blade — and everything I’ve seen for myself says you are — then it is only logical you would feel less than whole without one.”

Then, without segue or further explanation, Dorian strode forward, knelt, and removed from within his coat one of his sheathed Sheikah swords. It was the shorter of the two Link had seen him wield, though still longer than the basic blade he had taken from the Ganonspawn at the plateau. Like its sheath, the weapon sported a natural curve that hinted at a razor-sharp edge.

Link looked down dubiously at his friend.

“Dorian, I have no right to your blade simply because mine was lost in battle,” he said kindly. “I will make do with what I can find.”

To his surprise, the usually accommodating young Sheikah shook his head stubbornly.

“You risked your life and gave your sword on behalf of these people,” Dorian insisted. “They cannot repay you with a suitable weapon, but I can. Please, Sir Link, allow me the honor of arming the hero who would turn back the Calamity’s coming, at least until you wield the Sword That Seals The Darkness once again.”

Taken aback by the gesture, Link felt he could only accept Dorian’s offer. He took the sheathed weapon from the Sheikah’s hands, then bowed his head in a token of gratitude.

“Once again, you do your people proud, Dorian,” Link said in a low voice. “Should I need to wield this blade, your honor will fight with me.”

The young Sheikah blinked his eyes very rapidly at this. Any further show of emotion, however, was severed at the appearance of Sayge. The bemused craftsman was clearly unsure why Link would be holding a sheathed sword in front of a kneeling Sheikah in his shop.

“Er, shall I leave, Sir Link?” the craftsman asked with uncertainty.

“No, no, Master Sayge,” Link answered rather more loudly than intended. The old him surely knew how to act in such settings. That thought reminded him of the craftsman’s errand. “Ah, are those the arrows? Excellent. If they are half as good as this bow you recommended, I shall be well prepared indeed.”

The red-haired Hatenoan glowed at the praise while handing over a bundle of iron-tipped arrows which Link promptly placed in the mostly empty quiver at his side. He wanted to show an appropriate amount of reluctance for Dorian’s sake, but it did feel good when he secured the sheathed Sheikah blade to the sword belt crossing his back.

Link was in such a fine mood over his new sword and bow, it wasn’t until he left the store that he remembered that night’s feast. The sun was already well on its way to the western horizon, with the distant Dueling Peaks rearing upward in an effort to meet it. Villagers waved happily to him, most of them on their way to the center clearing in front of the inn.

Link joined the stream of people, his heart lifting at their infectious mood. Wives and husbands held hands while children skipped ahead. Little girls, like their mothers, wore flowers woven into their hair. The boys were clearly wearing the best shirt and trousers they owned, but many were already dirty from escaping their parents’ watchful eyes long enough to play.

The scene at the clearing was nothing less than festive. Colorful arrays of flowers adorned the tables and windows of the nearby inn, from which villagers carried platter after platter of food. The overall aroma set Link’s mouth watering furiously. With a pang, he realized this would be his last good meal in Hateno.

It seemed every table in the village had been recruited to hold the feast’s attendants and entrees. Simmering soups, various vegetables and massive meats dominated every surface save the bare minimum needed for individual plates.

To Link’s amazement, his appearance was greeted by a mighty cheer from everyone in attendance. Even those carrying food stopped to vocally add their welcome.

Unsure as to whether they expected more or less, Link politely raised a hand in acknowledgement. Then he saw Brigo and Reede motioning for him to join them at the head table, where two empty seats were waiting for him and Dorian.

Through a small sea of back-clapping and hand-shaking, the pair made its way to the front. When they arrived, Reede greeted them warmly. While embracing Link, the village head said in a low voice, “You have no need of weapons this night, Master Link. Enjoy the peace you have helped this village earn.”

Link did not hesitate to remove his sword belt, bow and quiver and set them on the ground and out of sight. He immediately felt lighter than he could remember, a combination of his lack of gear and the general atmosphere. The village torches were lit in advance of the setting sun, enhancing the joyous air of the evening.

Reede stood and rose his hands the air, and an immediate hush fell over the populace. Even the normally impatient youth paid rapt attention to their village head and the “heroes” sitting on either side of him.

“My friends,” Reede began in a loud but warm voice for all to hear, “it is with great pleasure that I welcome you to this splendid occasion. I will not say much so that we may enjoy the fare before us. I remind you of only this: we are here to celebrate the deeds of those who aided us in our darkest hour. To Master Link, Master Brigo, and Master Dorian, we dedicate this feast and offer our thanks, for without them, we would not be here.”

Heartfelt rounds of “hear hear” and “huzzah” rolled forth at Reede’s words. He allowed them to continue for a moment before requesting silence once again.

“I will delay our meal only long enough to allow our guests to speak should they so wish.”

Heads craned to see if any of them would oblige. Brigo stood first.

“I do no be one fer speech-makin’, but I’ll say this,” the patrolman declared, “you lot can feast as well as you can fight, an’ that’s a fact!”

An appreciative cheer rose at Brigo’s compliments, stopping only when Dorian stood next.

“I am not a leader among my people,” the Sheikah said humbly, “but I feel safe in saying we consider Hateno one of the most important links to Hyrule’s past and future. It was no less than our duty to defend you from the same forces that failed to conquer this place a century ago. You are truly a thorn in the Calamity’s hoof, Hateno.”

A mighty roar rose at this. Link was momentarily distracted from his own thoughts. A thorn in the Calamity’s hoof? He would have to ask Dorian what that meant.

All eyes, however, were now turned to the one who had yet to speak. Feeling it would seem odd or even rude if he did not say anything, Link stood. The firelight played off his blue eyes, the sharp features of his face standing out in the torchlit dusk. Then, the feelings of the last few days poured out in a few simple words.

“The tables here are full,” Link said just loudly enough to be heard, but soft enough to make it an effort worth making. “They do not reflect the absence of those who are no longer with us.”

Link’s eyes blazed with emotion, his arm raised and pointing to his right — north, in the direction of the seventeen newly dug graves. His eyes found the grieving mother. Her face shone with a combination of pride and tears.

“Those who fell — and those of you who fought and lived — were and are as brave as me and my friends. Perhaps more, for you fought not with knowledge or battle lust, but with a desire to defend that which you hold most dear. I am grateful this village still lives, but I myself honor those who do not. Remember them this night and know this — their deeds will not be forgotten, nor their lives unavenged.”

Heavy silence greeted Link’s words, interrupted only by the quiet sobbing of those most touched by them. One by one, each villager raised a cup, pint or glass In Link’s direction. He raised his own and turned to face north.

“To those not with us,” Link said almost too quietly to hear. The rest of the villagers, however, drank with him.

Then the feast began.

 

* * *

 

Link thought he might never experience such happiness as this. Good food and better company fed his body and spirit until both were filled to overflowing. Those younger and unaffected from their meals danced in the clearing around which the tables formed three sides of a square.

Brigo had already taken two turns at a jig, including one with the pretty inn hostess that had so efficiently turned his flirtations into frustrations a few days before. It appeared a second chance had done the patrolman no favors. His post-dance advances produced only a laugh and an admonishing finger, leaving Brigo to return somewhat huffily to the table for a third round of food.

Link laughed until he noticed that Dorian, who had been enjoying himself immensely throughout the feast, had narrowed eyes focused directly at the girl. He nudged his friend with an elbow.

“I say, Dorian, are you growing protective of Brig’s feelings?” Link joked. “Give her credit for seeing our friend’s wiles for what they are.”

The young Sheikah, however, remained serious and murmured in reply, “It’s not her, Sir Link. Behind her. Those two who left before the battle — Joute and Garill? — are back. They’re at the far table. Their plates are full but they’re not eating, and they’re sneaking looks at us every chance they get.”

Link quickly looked up and saw that his friend was right. At the furthest end of the side table sat a pair of men he had not seen since first arriving in Hateno. One sported yellowish hair and a beard that left his upper lip bare. The other was older, his hair grey and skin somewhat gaunt against his sharp cheekbones. The two bore one striking similarity: both their eyes were dull brown and off-center on their faces, as though placed there by a lazy doll maker. Link and his companions had met the pair very briefly immediately after coming to Hateno. They had supposedly been helping the village prepare itself for battle, only to leave the night before it began. Dorian had been especially suspicious of them, and Link scarcely less so.

No one was making an effort to speak with the two visitors, who were indeed ignoring plates heaped with food. Every so often, Link saw them glance in his direction, then quickly move their gaze along in an effort to seem natural.

On their next visual pass, however, the yellow-haired one nudged his companion and nodded in Link’s direction. The elder of the pair, Joute, shook his head, but Garill appeared to argue his point. Finally, the latter rose from his place at the table and walked around to where Link and the others were seated.

Before Garill came into plain view, Link quietly retrieved his short Sheikah sword and placed it beside him on the bench, opposite the direction from which the odd man approached. Though he did not appear to be armed, Link was once again seized with the irrational impression that the Garill wished him harm, and would seize an opportunity to do so in an instant. He could not explain it, but there it was.

Brigo had stirred from his failed flirtations enough to also note Garill’s approach. He joined his friends in suspiciously eyeing the newcomer. Like Link and Dorian, the patrolman had been none too impressed with the travelers after their first meeting.

Garill sauntered up to their portion of the bench, but allowed a fair distance to remain between him and Link’s company — _close enough to talk, but far enough to stay out of reach_ , Link thought suddenly.

Reede seemed to sense the quiet acrimony between the two parties and strove to immediately soothe the underlying tension.

“Ah, Master Garill,” the village head greeted politely, if not warmly. Link suspected Reede had also not appreciated the pair’s flight on the eve of battle. “To what do we owe the pleasure of your company?’

Brigo appeared on the verge of adding his own commentary, but kept his wit to himself at a glance from Link. Garill, however, simply delivered the smirk Link had found so sickening at their first meeting.

“We come to honor Hateno’s heroes, of course,” he simpered. “Word has reached us that a great victory was won over the Ganonspawn. Of course, we should have known, having run into several bands of them fleeing west the last couple of days.”

“Did yeh run from those lots too, then?” Brigo demanded. Clearly, his patience with the offputting young man had been thin to begin with.

Garill’s sarcastic attempt at a smile simply widened. “Quite the opposite, stableboy,” he taunted. “We finished the work you started. None of those scary bokoblins remain to trouble your heads further.”

Brigo stood upright, reared to his full and impressive height. Link thought Garill would have been wise to be cowed. He was not. His one-sided smile seemed to invite the patrolman to cross the invisible line between them. Perhaps luckily for the traveler, Dorian’s words intervened.

“You spin quite a tale,” the young Sheikah said without making eye contact. Link saw Dorian was actually twirling his cup in his hand and giving it his full visual attention. “I searched beyond the woods and well into Ovli Plain, and saw no trace of the Ganonspawn, living or dead.”

Dorian’s eyes remained focused on the nondescript cup, but he suddenly ceased twirling it and his voice continued with an added sharpness. “They were as gone as a corpse swallowed by the Gerudo sands.”

Link had no idea what Dorian meant by this and neither, apparently, did Brigo or Reede. Garill, however, tensed immediately, his attention suddenly and completely focused on the Sheikah. To the casual passerby, Dorian appeared completely nonchalant. Link would have wagered everything he owned, however, that the youth had a weapon ready and waiting to deal out death at the blink of an eye.

Garill appeared equally coiled, and Link was reminded of their previous encounter at the inn, when he felt sure the traveler was deciding whether to attack. This moment was interrupted, however, by Joute’s arrival. The more elderly traveler placed a hand on his companion’s shoulder, as a friend might do. Link more than suspected it was a gesture of restraint.

“So, we meet again,” Joute said calmly, his oddly set eyes taking them all in. Link thought they lingered on himself and Dorian for a second longer than the others. “We hear congratulations are in order, and I see Garill here was already delivering them.”

“Yes,” Reede said quickly, clearly eager to avoid confrontation. “We are heartened to see the news has traveled so quickly. I trust you are well, Master Joute?”

The middle-aged man barely spared a glance for the village head, his eyes continuing to divide their unsettling attention between Link and Dorian.

“Well enough, yes,” he replied curtly. “As I said, we returned to offer our congratulations and honor the… ah… heroes of Hateno. Hopefully we may offer our own humble assistance as your people recover from such a traumatic event.”

Now it was Link’s turn to stand up. He did not step any closer to the odd pair — instinct told him Garill might want him to do just that. His almond-shaped eyes were as hard as ice, his voice unyielding as iron.

“Your help is not needed nor wanted here,” Link heard himself say. Stone was softer than his words. “You left these people in their hour of need. Now seventeen men and women are dead. Fewer might have fallen had you stayed. You did not. You will not feast with the loved ones who have lost them, nor will you enjoy the peace the slain have earned them. Leave or be made to leave, the both of you. I’ll not wait long for an answer.”

The entire feast was quiet. Everyone was standing and looking not with fear or confusion, but in stern unity at the pair of suddenly unwelcome visitors. Even Reede had abandoned diplomacy in favor of discipline, his frown of disapproval joining those from the surrounding tables.

Garill was openly sneering at those at the head table now, and Link knew the hand now inside his coat pocket was gripping the hilt of a weapon. Joute was clearly restraining him now, but his off-centered eyes were narrowed and hard.

“We shall leave, as there is nothing of interest for us here,” Joute said casually. “I am sorry we are so ill-met. Perhaps, another time, we will know one another better.”

Link did not care for the implication of Joute’s words, but one of his friends was even less forgiving of the pair in general.

“Anytime would too soon, yeh bloody milk-sloppin’ cowards!” Brigo snarled. “Play the hero wi’ meh again an’ I’ll out yeh fer the hallow hearts yeh really are! That’s if these Hatenoans do no beat me to the bloody honor!”

An angry murmur began rising from the crowd, but Reede silenced them with an upraised hand. Then he spoke clearly so all could hear.

“You have heard the wishes of those who risked their lives to defend us,” the village head issued sternly. “Leave now. I would not have further conflict here, but I will not deny Master Link’s judgement on you this day.”

Garill seemed itching to test the villagers’ resolve, but Joute was once again the voice of constraint. He murmured something to his younger companion, who briefly shook his head in defiance. Joute gripped him harder on the shoulder and whispered more fiercely, and though Garill still appeared reluctant, Link could tell his grip on whatever that hidden hand held had relaxed.

Joute inclined his head ever so slightly in Reede’s direction, but his eyes were fixed on Link.

“As I said, we shall leave,” the elder man said slowly. “Until we meet again.”

The pair made their way quickly around the tables before taking the path toward the village entrance. Reede motioned to Thadd and a young village girl named Ivee. Both nodded and, taking up previously hidden bows and quivers, followed the travelers a short distance behind to ensure their departure.

The spell broken, most of the villagers settled back into the evening’s festivities. Link, however, sat down with his heart pounding. He still was not sure why he had spoken as he had.

“Reede, I am sorry,” Link said earnestly. “I do not know what came over me. My only explanation is that I do not trust them nor their intentions. That is no excuse to resort to threats at any time, let alone in front of your people.”

The village head shook his head in reply and laid a comforting hand on Link’s wrist.

“You have nothing to apologize for, my friend,” Reede insisted gently. “What you said is true. Every word of it. Those words were swords only a warrior such as yourself could wield. As for trust, I can only admit that I, too, found it difficult to see the integrity in their offer. If one such as you is not alone in feeling this way, I must trust to Hylia it is for a reason.”

Link nodded, feeling somewhat comforted in that he was not the only one to feel inexplicably agitated by the odd couple. Then, remembering something, he turned to Dorian, who was settling himself back at the table after the brief confrontation.

“Dorian, you said you had your own theories as to how Garill and Joute left Hateno without being discovered by the Ganonspawn,” Link recalled in a low voice so only his friend could here. “Would you care to share them with us now?”

The young Sheikah shook his head ever so slightly. “Now would not be a good time, Master Link,” he answered in equally low tones. “Tomorrow, after we are well away, I will tell you what I suspected — and what I think I now know for sure.”

Dorian’s confidence was enough for Link, who settled into recapturing the joy of the evening. Tomorrow, at first light, he would leave this happy people — and hopefully come closer to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Link's travels are (and will continue to be) frequent enough that the scene at Hateno became a valuable opportunity. There, he can at least brush the idea of a normal life by rubbing shoulders with good people and living out a moment's peace. I'm sure it was a pleasant change of pace to be accosted by an enthusiastic child instead of a bloodthirsty bokoblin. One aspect of this chapter that will resurface later in the book: Link's confidence in dealing with others. He still lacks nearly all of his memories, but Link's words to friends (the villagers) and enemies (Joute and Garill) felt equally realistic to me.
> 
> Dorian has been a pleasant surprise. When I initially drafted him, it was simply to provide a guide from Kakariko to Hateno. Then I realized his value as a resource to Link and a representative of the Sheikah to readers. Given his enthusiasm for history -- and Link's history in particular -- it felt natural for Dorian's character to expand in the way that it has.
> 
> As for Joute and Garill, their full purpose will play itself out in due course (one sooner than the other). Buckle up. The stakes go up from here. Again, please don't hesitate to leave a comment, whether you have previously or not. I enjoy gauging reactions to the story's twists and turns whether they coincide with my own feelings or not. If I've been lucky enough to entertain you with this piece, feel free to drop a bookmark and/or a kudos. Either way, I'm grateful for your time. -- MattWords


	6. A Fruitless Search

The sun drifted slowly and mercilessly over what many Hyruleans dubbed the Sea of Sands, more commonly known as the Gerudo Desert. Suffocating heat pressed down on and rose from the eddying dunes, creating mesmerizing waves in the air. A small spurt of sand betrayed the presence of some creature resilient enough to call the barren region home. Whatever it was showed itself no further, either out of respect for predators or hope for prey.

Bertri lowered her spear once assured the disturbance was not a threat. The dark-skinned Gerudo mentally berated herself. Her mother, ancestors protect her, would have sent her running laps around the city walls for startling so easily. She briefly wondered what her father would think, then discarded the notion. Like all of her people, she had never known her father.

Refastening her spear to her back, Bertri took a small drink from the waterskin that hung at her waist. Her momentarily raised gaze lighted upon her people's recent cause for concern: a dark dust cloud, occasionally illuminated by flashes of unnatural forked lightning. It swirled east of the only road to cut through the desert, and the travelers on that road made no effort to approach the phenomenon. They had been warned of the horror within that storm, and were eager to leave well enough alone.

Some of those travelers had spotted her, now, and gazed curiously in the way grasswalkers so often did when encountering her people. Bertri ignored them because they held no interest for her. She was neither a trader nor a softhearted maid desperately searching for a voe.

Instead, the red-haired Gerudo set her sights on where sun, sand, road and travelers coalesced. Walls built by man (or, in this case, woman) filled in the gaps of natural sunbleached stone that had once formed a natural outcropping. Open archways marked the three of Gerudo Town's four sides, though the northern entrance was the only one by which travelers were allowed to enter. Half a score of similarly dark-skinned women, each heavily armed, manned what the Gerudo dubbed Trader's Gate. The line to enter was long, but the women did not rush their task of visually appraising each foreigner. Goods needed to be shown. More importantly, hoods were forced to be lowered. No voe was permitted within Gerudo Town, on pain of death, a thought which made Bertri sneer at a man who seemed particularly annoyed at being forced to wait outside the city walls.

 _He should be grateful_ , she thought viciously,  _that my sand sisters do not send him walking back through the desert naked and covered in rotten voltfruit!_

Bertri had refrained from joining the path until she was nearly upon the Trader's Gate. Two of her sisters looked up suspiciously before recognizing the newcomer. Smiles alighted on their sharp, angled features.

" _Vasaaq_ , sister!" one of them greeted warmly. "You have returned! Did the ancestors favor your quest?"

"Silence!" hissed her much larger and less congenial companion. "Her quest and its fruits are for our people alone, not these peddlers and dreamers!"

Bertri embraced each of them, then rested a hand on their shoulders to include them both her greeting.

"I am well, thank the ancestors," she reassured them quietly. "But Fegran is right, Merina, my news is for Lady Riju before any others."

"Of course," Merina acquiesced readily. "I am here until dusk. Meet me at the Noble Canteen tonight after!"

"I will," Bertri agreed with a squeeze of her friend's shoulder. She bid them farewell, her mood souring quickly as she shouldered her way through the crowd of would-be visitors. She had little patience for grasswalkers. In her eyes, they were weak. Cloaks and trousers hid their milk-white skin from the same sun that made the Gerudo as strong as anything else that survived here. Even their pathetically necessary protection did not stop them from whining of the heat, as though Hylia should grant them water and shade in unearned abundance. Their eyes followed her hopefully - and, in Bertri's eyes, greedily - as she emerged from their distasteful midst and entered the home of her people.

Low, flat dwellings made of bone-white stone lay before her in spacious order. Aqueducts connected their roofs to allow the transport of the desert city's most precious commodity. Gerudo Town's waters were a mysterious wonder, but one gratefully received by its people. Their channeled course allowed for the carefully placed and grown palm trees that lined city's main avenues, the widest of which began almost immediately upon entering through the Trader's Gate.

Bertri strode through that avenue now, briefly acknowledging the hailing welcomes of her sisters. More grasswalkers were already milling about the Vendors Plaza, but they paid little attention to the presence of one more Gerudo. A Hylian tradeswoman was attempting to loudly talk down the price of a set of topaz earrings. Bertri snorted. She would wind up paying more than the original cost for her insolence.

Almost all the Gerudo vendors were similarly engaged in trade talks, each of them situated at every type of station imaginable. Some sat before goods displayed atop brightly dyed rugs. Others stood behind small wooden tables on which their best wares were set to catch the wandering eye. The most wealthy of them owned the shaded storefront dwellings that ringed the plaza itself.

Most dealt with Hylians -  _Easy rupees_ , Bertri thought in satisfaction - but she nodded in absent-minded respect toward a large Goron engrossed in conversation with one of her sisters. The stone-made being held a fistful of glittering rubies in his oversized hand. Such gems were among the rarest to be had in this region of Hyrule, and Bertri thought her sister would ultimately lose this bargain in her eagerness to obtain them. Gorons were the only Hyruleans as gifted as Gerudo when it came to bartering.

Sure enough, the deal was struck before Bertri had passed out of earshot. She heard the Goron deliver hearty thanks in an impressively deep voice, making her wonder for the hundredth time whether the volcano-dwelling creature was, in fact, male. For the hundredth time, she dismissed the question. Gorons had been allowed entrance into Gerudo Town for as long their histories were written. The ancestors knew why they were granted such a blind exception, but there it was.

Bertri wrenched her attention away from her people's bustling trade and focused instead on the wide, stone stairway that led from the plaza to the Hall of Chieftains. Two guards awaited at the top of those stairs, but to Bertri's surprise they directed her elsewhere.

" _Vasaaq_ , sister," one of them greeted formally. "Lady Riju awaits you within the barracks."

"Why there?" Bertri asked curiously. Her sister, who like so many of them had the lower half of her face veiled, shrugged in reply.

"She takes more lessons with the sword," the Gerudo answered, unconcerned. "Given the reason for your search, it is only natural for Lady Riju to hone her defenses."

Bertri nodded in agreement. Undetected, intruders had stolen into Gerudo Town and taken their people's most sacred relic. What would stop them from doing so again to slay their chieftain?

" _Sarqso_ ," she thanked them. "I meet with Merina at the Canteen tonight. You will join us?"

Both Gerudo nodded enthusiastically. A night at the city pub was always a standing invitation among sisters and almost always accepted when extended. For now, however, duty waited.

Bertri reluctantly made her way back down the stairs and through the plaza, glancing askance only when overhearing the over-ambitious Hylian pay a hefty price for her affrontry. She smiled in approval at her sister, who returned the unspoken compliment with a pleased grin of her own.

The barracks were most easily accessed from the Spear Gate at the western wall, but Bertri was forced to walk the rigidly designed streets to reach it from within city. By the time she arrived, the sun was well begun on its long-awaited descent.

The heat, however, had hardly subsided, nor would it until the sun had set. Only then would the day's extreme warmth give way to equally biting cold. Such was the forge in which the Gerudo were melded, shaped and strengthened.

Like nearly every building in Gerudo Town, the barracks were devoid of the formality of doors. Open archways provided entry, though only after the approval of their assigned guards. Another pair warmly acknowledged Bertri. One of them was old enough to be her mother, but looked just as capable with her spear as the young initiate stationed alongside her.

Bertri passed through the archway and found herself on the outskirts of an audience. She was tall, however, even for a Gerudo. Her considerable height allowed her a clear view of the main attraction.

Two combatants circled one another within the tight ring formed by their observers. One was an adult in the prime of life, her physique chiseled and honed to practical perfection. Liana's hair was as red as any of her sisters, but her skill with the short-bladed scimitar and round shield was equaled by none. Her movements were sure and skilled, the strength behind them made more visible by an upper body bare save for the snug halter favored by all Gerudo.

Liana's opponent was alarmingly short compared to everyone else in the room. Her body still bore much of the softness of youth, but Bertri could see lean muscle beginning to take shape on Lady Riju's arms, stomach and legs. The Chieftan's own halter was much smaller, as her womanhood had not yet fully blossomed. Even in the midst of battle, however, it was clear the Gerudo's young leader had been blessed with an added beauty that would someday stop voe in their single-minded steps.

Now, however, Riju's exotically youthful face was set in tight concentration. Sweat poured down her body as she held up her own curved sword and shield, ready and waiting for Liana's next attack. Clearly, they had been at this for some time.

Liana's eyes narrowed, searching for the opening her opponent was inviting her to find. Without warning, she leapt forward, seeking to use her size to overwhelm her diminutive foe.

Bertri gasped in approval as Riju spun sideways and out of the powerful blow's path, then raised her shield when Liana's experienced sword arm followed her opponent's path. The blade resounded off the bejeweled guard with a sharp clang, but the swordmaster followed smoothly with a broad slice of her own shield.

Riju rolled under and away from the shield's sharp edge, then swiped quickly with her own blade at Liana's exposed calves. Like a dancer, the elder Gerudo quick-stepped around the slashing scimitar, flowing into her own return blow with a downward stab. Riju quickly lifted her shield to meet it, then pushed it into Liana's chest as she rose to her feet.

Bertri inwardly applauded. Such a move was unexpected and would have sent almost any foe sprawling on her back. Riju's relatively small stature, however, only caused Liana to stagger slightly backwards.

"Stop!"

Bertri was not alone in being startled by the barking command. Only now did she see Buliara, Captain of the Gerudo Guard, overseeing the duel from the other side of the enclosed circle. She was by far the most physically imposing fighter among her people, an impression emphasized by the enormous gold-hilted claymore that never left her side. She banged its point on the flagstone floor to emphasize her next words.

"You are dead," Buliara announced flatly. She did not mince words on the Chieftain's behalf, not even with half of her warriors present. "What you did would have worked for everyone here except you. You must fight to your strengths, Lady Riju, and flee your weaknesses, no matter how unfair or temporary they might be."

Liana opened her mouth, but Buliara silenced the potential protest with a look that would curdle stone. Bertri hoped her report would not produce a repeat of that look.

Riju, meanwhile, was already replacing her sword and shield on a nearby weapons rack.

"You are right, of course," the young Chieftain coolly agreed. "Still, I am encouraged with the progress made today. You are a worthy teacher, Liana," she added warmly to the swordswoman. "I look forward to seeing you tomorrow."

"Of course, Lady Riju," Liana returned, and Bertri could not help but notice it was with the same respect that she herself felt upon seeing her Chieftain's bearing up close. "Sav'saaba."

"You are finished?" Buliara interjected in surprise. "If this is as high a priority as you have said, why not continue until sundown?"

"Because," Riju returned with a patient smile, "while you were seeing to the perfection of my practice, I made the mistake of diverting my attention long enough to notice the arrival of one of Captain Teake's scouts."

All eyes turned and eventually found Bertri, whose heart hammered against her tightly haltered chest.

"Bertri!" Buliara immediately barked. "Surely you knew we awaited your return? Why did you not announce yourself! "

"Because whatever she has found is not important enough to interrupt her Chieftain's practice," Riju answered knowingly, her finger tapping her blue-painted lips. "Is that not so, Bertri?"

The Gerudo scout nodded dumbly at her Chieftain's simple logic, to which Buliara clearly had no ready response. Bertri felt some of her confidence return. The Captain of the Guard found success only in hard results. Lady Riju, however, seemed to find value in anyone and anything, a quality that was resonating more with with her people with every passing day.

Bertri remembered well the day Makeela Riju's mother was slain. The people had mourned her loss heavily, only to then watch with apprehension as the youngest ruler in their history ascended to the throne. The most elderly of them had shaken their heads at the thought of a young girl taking on the mantle of Chieftain. Many credited her successes to advisors, her failures to her. There had really only been one of the latter. The loss of the Thunder Helm had rung like a gong of alarm throughout Gerudo Town.

Little by little, however, Lady Riju was winning over her people even in the midst of crisis. Her combination of kindness and command seemed to touch everyone, even the most reluctant. Looking at her now, body drenched with exertion but green eyes sharp with intelligence, Bertri could think of no other more fit to guide the Gerudo through these troubled times.

Resigned to her Chieftain's wisdom, Buliara dispensed her sternness elsewhere.

"Leave us!" she commanded loudly.

The remaining Gerudo warriors silently exited the barracks, until only Chieftain, Captain and scout remained.

"You are right, my Lady Riju," Bertri finally exhaled. "I have no answers from my search. I assume, then, others have bourne similar news?"

Riju shook her head as she took an informal and weary seat atop one of the low stone steps leading up to the practice platform.

"Nothing, but even no news means we have eliminated places to look," the young Gerudo said bracingly. "Tell me where you went and what you did not find."

Riju and Buliara listened sharply to Bertri's report.

"By order of Captain Teake, we separated for our search," she explained. "We would cover more ground with less risk of discovery. I was dispatched to the great cliffs south of the Birida Lookout. It was there that I saw the great tower of bronze bearing the Sheikah eye. When the sun set, it glowed orange. I saw no difference between it and the tower that now stands atop Spectacle Rock."

"I assume you searched this wonder," Riju offered encouragingly.

"Oh yes, Lady Riju," Bertri nodded fervently. "I had never seen its like before, but I found nothing and no one near it."

"Why would we not have heard from others who have seen this tower up close?" Buliara asked suspiciously. "Last I looked, traders were still massing at our gates. Surely they would have brought news?"

"Birida lies well north of the desert road," Riju answered dismissively. "Besides, even had a trader explored this thing, have our people invited their confidences? I would hesitate to say they have."

The young Chieftain was looking appraisingly at Bertri, who looked down and shuffled her feet in ill-concealed shame. It was as though Lady Riju could read her earlier thoughts about the Hylian traders.

"Very well," Buliara clipped with a nod of acceptance. "What more did you find?"

"Sand and rocks," Bertri answered resignedly. "Not one lizalfo disturbed the floors below the cliffs."

"You did not find this odd?" Riju offered.

Bertri looked up in surprise, ready to answer "no." Now that it was called to her attention, she was forced to admit that the complete lack of lizard-like monsters was indeed rare in a land where they festered like a plague.

"Another piece to the puzzle," Riju mused in distracted satisfaction. "But is it the one that currently besets us, or another altogether? Oh, I am sorry, Bertri, was there anything else?"

"Nothing, Lady Riju," she responded with even deeper respect than that with which she had begun. "Only that when we set out, Barta and Leena made for Karusa Valley.."

"We have neither seen nor heard from them," Riju informed her with a frown. "But Karusa lies farther still than the cliffs. Perhaps your return portends their own."

"May the ancestors make it so," Bertri offered with a bow.

"Indeed," Riju replied with a smile before rising to her feet. The Gerudo Chieftain had to use all of her modest height and reach to touch Bertri's shoulder, but she did so with a grace and kindness that more than compensated for her lack of stature. "You have done well, Bertri. Rest well with that knowledge. May Hylia walk the sands with you."

Bertri bowed again, not because protocol called for it, but because she wanted to return the respect her Chieftain so freely offered.

"And with you, Lady Riju," she stammered.

It was not until she had exited the barracks and could no longer feel Riju and Buliara's eyes on her that Bertri began running to the Noble Canteen, eager to share her story to her sisters.

 

* * *

 

 

"You know that more of our people pray to our ancestors than to Hylia, do you not?"

Riju knew the question, which was really more of a commentary, would come.  _I'm getting better at that_ , she thought happily.  _Maybe one day people will think I can read their minds. Buliara told me Mother used to make her think that_.

"I do," she admitted. "I wonder why that is - and whether we are paying the price for it."

"Surely you do not think the Helm was stolen as punishment-," Buliara incredulously began.

"Oh, of course not," Riju snorted with a dismissive hand, then immediately regretted it. Chieftains should never snort. "Perhaps, in venerating our ancestors and clinging to their ways, we have allowed ourselves to forget She to whom we are initially indebted."

Silence met Riju's philosophical wonderings as she absent-mindedly ran her sun-darkened hand along the wooden hafts of spear rack. The young queen smiled to herself. Silence meant her words were being weighed, that they counted for at least a moment's thought. That moment, however, was brief.

"And what of these towers?" Buliara asked harshly. "It is the Sheikah we must thank for Vah Naboris's existence. Now, days after she has turned against us, ancient structures bearing the Sheikah seal have risen in places where nothing dwells? Whether by our ancestors' hands our Hylia's, I do not believe it a coincidence."

"Nor do I," Riju replied agreeably as she left the spears and came upon a displayed collection of scimitars. Stories of the late Queen Urbosa, fallen Champion of the Gerudo, said she wielded the curved blade with legendary skill. Perhaps, one day, Riju would as well. Spears and claymores were too big for her, after all. For now, anyway. "We shall have to consult the histories on this matter. Unless you know of a Sheikah  _vai_  who is willing to provide answers?"

"Books will not tell us who stole the Thunder Helm," Buliara protested. "Send out more search parties. We must-"

"I could have ten times as many under my command and still not cover a fraction of the sands," Riju firmly interrupted as she turned to face her captain. It was hard to be firm with those so much taller than herself, but her mother had not been extraordinarily tall, either. "Luckily, it is extremely unlikely a person with legs to walk and hands to steal lives in the sands themselves. Teake is doing what must be done, which is searching anywhere the thieves would conceivably dwell. More than that, we cannot do."

"I only wish to know who did it," Buliara protested, her green eyes narrowed in restrained anger for their unknown foe. "I could endure a lengthy search if I knew who - or what - we were searching for. If it was a grasswalker, she could be anywhere by now."

"No Hylian could travel that far without seeking a stable's protection along the way," Riju replied confidently. Buliara might know more than she could ever hope to learn about combat, but the young Chieftain was worlds ahead when it came to the world outside their desert home. Her queenship required her to be. "They must pass two just to leave the canyon. Our sisters frequent them enough to risk her discovery. No, I believe our enemy resides here. Somewhere."

Another moment of silent thought, though Riju knew this was focused on the unuttered destination of her spoken logic.

"The Yiga?" Buliara finally asked in hushed tones, to which Riju nodded.

"I have given it much thought," the diminutive queen confessed. "Entering this city and stealing its greatest treasure would require the utmost of stealth, and possibly magic. The signs of the Sheikah have risen. It would only be natural for their opposite to reveal itself as well."

"It could just as easily be the Sheikah, then," the stern-faced captain returned. "They, too, thrive in the shadows. Their machine threatens our city even now, while towers of untold origin and purpose bear their symbol."

"No," Riju said with a shake of her head. "Those who remained true to the Sheikah ways chose to live out their days to the east. I do not believe the doomsayers who would lay the Calamity and its aftermath at their feet. It was Ganon who wielded the Sheikah's tools to our downfall, of that I have no doubt. Mother said so."

A final, acquiescent silence greeted her words, and Riju thought she knew why. She rarely referenced her mother in conversation, mostly to prevent betraying her grief. Now, however, Makeela Riju felt her heart swell with confidence upon recalling her mother's teachings. They were the ultimate seal of her right to lead her people. Perhaps, in their most uncertain time since the Calamity, that seal would hold the Gerudo together through its daughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glimpses of Hyrule's other peoples become more frequent from here on, which is great because I really enjoy writing them. Even in limited cutscenes and game dialogue, the Gerudo's austere pride came across pretty clear. This was a fun chance to delve deeper into that.
> 
> Riju's efforts to rule well -- and consequently win her people's loyalty -- are a fascinating contrast of outward confidence and inner hope. How many of us have to do the same in our own lives, especially at work? The young chieftain faces a far sterner test with Vah Naboris and, now, other forces threatening her people. I hope you enjoy her response to those challenges.
> 
> As always, feel free to comment your thoughts/take on this latest chapter. If I was lucky enough to write something you liked, don't hesitate to hit that bookmark button! We're back with Link next time, and what waits for him will shape the days ahead. Hope life is treating you well. -- MattWords


	7. Mount Lanayru

Link rose at dawn's light as if a bell had called him to wake. He retrieved his belongings swiftly. So eager was he for this day's journey that he had arranged everything the night before so all was readily at hand.

Dorian's gift of a weapon was once again strapped to his back, the hilt jutting just above his right shoulder. His bow was shouldered and quiver full. The Sheikah Slate hung on two stout hooks cunningly sewn into his broad waist belt. The curious paraglider was collapsed and situated from another pair of hooks on the back of the same belt. His haversack, filled to bursting with food from the generous Hatenoans, hung at his left side.

The large, second-story loft of the inn was occupied only by Link and his companions, both of whom were already up and likewise preparing to leave. Dorian had stowed his casual Sheikah clothing in favor of the flexible leather breastplate, pauldrons and greaves his people usually wore away from home. His own large sword was also strapped to his back, as was his small Sheikah bow.

Brigo wore his regular travel gear as he always did, highlighted by a long spear and enormous pack of supplies. Dorian, however, looked askance at the patrolman and shook his head.

"Best to lighten that lot, Master Brigo," he said warningly. "We'll not have horses to carry it this time, and you'll not want to bear that much on foot up the mountain."

The patrolman frowned over his shoulder, but nodded just the same.

"Aye, yeh're right there, lad," Brigo admitted. "Right, give meh a tick to sort this lot out."

There was a fair amount of wincing and bemoaning from their experienced friend as he parted with all but the bare essentials. Much of it was extra food and drink, but Link also noticed extra lengths of rope, two lanterns, several large spoons and what appeared to be an enormous claw go into the pile.

With a sigh of regret, Brigo then put the discard pile into an extra bag that had emerged from the original, then stowed it under his bed.

"I'll no forget those," the patrolman murmured in a hurt tone. "That hawk claw was a gift from meh pappy, an' I intend on keepin' it!"

Link and Dorian favored their friend with consoling murmurs as they descended the stairs. They were greeted, as they had been every morning during their stay, by the young hostess. This time, however, her attention was only for the tall patrolman. She walked right up to him, raised herself up on tiptoe and kissed his cheek before patting it and saying, "You're a lovely dancer." Then, without so much as a farewell, she walked straight to the kitchen in the back of the inn.

The patrolman was staring, jaw agape, at the girl's point of exit. Then he began rubbing the offended cheek and muttering ominously.

"Ruddy girl do no give me the time o' day 'til I be leavin'. Typical woman playin' games wi' a man's honest heart. I am a good dancer, though, make no mistake."

Deciding silence was the better show of friendship than outright laughter, Link and Dorian held their tongues as the trio exited the inn and turned north toward the tech lab. They saw more people at the village fringes than near the inn, as those with crops or livestock had also risen with the sun. They waved cheerily at the trio, all of whom returned the salutation with equal enthusiasm. Each of them was truly saddened to be leaving the hospitality of Hateno.

The bittersweetness of their departure quickly gave way to an eagerness for the day's journey. At the foot of the easternmost hill and waiting just outside the Retsam Forest, stood Purah and Symin. The former was bundled up in a large coat that covered her entire body. Clearly, it had been hers before her age-altering transformation.

Despite being thus bundled, the white-haired director called out to the approaching companions rather harshly.

"Hurry up!" Purah said irritably. "I'm cold!"

Trying not to smile, Link and the others quickened their strides until they had met the awaiting Sheikah. Their breath rose in misty white clouds in the still-brisk morning air. The sun had not yet escaped the shadow of the east coast mountains.

Purah looked appraisingly at the trio.

"Well, it looks like waiting a day didn't hurt, did it?" she piped with a glare in Link's direction. "You've got plenty of wood, tinder and warm clothes, right? Odds are you'll have to camp overnight on the mountain, and it's way colder at night than during the day up there!"

Brigo snorted derisively. "We've got what we need, lassie," he said huffily. Link thought he was still mourning the sizeable dent in his supply sack. "We'll no freeze to death up there."

Link had a thick doublet stowed in his own gear, a gift from Rhoam back at the Great Plateau. He had needed it there to climb its tallest peak, but Mount Lanayru made Mount Hylia seem a molehill by comparison.

Purah shifted her baleful and overlarge eyes to the patrolman. "Don't get snippy with me, mister! And it's 'ma'am,' to you! I'm old enough to be your great grandma!"

"Hylia send me to meh doom if yeh are, yeh crazy wee coot." Link was grateful Brigo did not say it loud enough for the director to hear.

Symin severed the squabble with a polite gesture towards the woods behind him.

"Go straight east through the forest. You'll reach the foothills of Walnot Mountain. It's part of the Lanayru range. Stay on the flats or ridges as much as you can, and you should be able to reach the spring near Lanayru's summit. Your slate will show you the way of course, Master Link."

Link nodded and patted the device at his hip. With neither Dorian nor Brigo having journeyed this particular path before, he was doubly grateful for the detailed map on the slate now. He still wanted one question confirmed, however.

"All of us will be returning to Kakariko Village after seeing the spring," Link explained. "The map shows the Lanayru road cutting straight west from the mountain. Is it still safe to use?"

"Difficult, but much shorter than returning this way, yes," Symin said with a frown. "That is, of course, assuming you are wanting to travel together? Otherwise you could just use the slate to travel directly to the shrine at Kakariko. Director Purah's slate shows it has been activated."

Link realized, then, why Impa had asked him to activate the shrine before departing Kakariko. She had known about the slate's travel ability.  _What else do you know that you are waiting to tell me?_  he wondered.

"We go together," Link answered aloud. "I like my chances better with them than alone."

Purah once again gazed at Link with a look that was both childish and wise beyond her years at the same time.

"You've changed a lot, Linky," she said matter-of-factly. "Hopefully not too much. Hopefully enough."

With that, Purah toddled over to Link, pulled him down by his shirt into a kneeling position and gave him a very formal kiss on the forehead.

"May Hylia bless your journey, Link of Hyrule," she murmured in a voice no six-year-old would ever use. After Link straightened up, Purah turned to Symin. "Can we go now? I'm freezing!"

Just like that, the two Sheikah left the three companions bemused at their sudden departure. Brigo then began to snigger.

"I'm no sure what's funnier: that yeh got kissed by a six-year-old or a one-hundred-twenty-three-year-old!"

Link gave the patrolman a none-too-gentle push upon passing him and entering the woods, then immediately called out to his Sheikah friend to cut off whatever retort the patrolman might have.

"Dorian, why did Symin say the Lanayru Road would be more difficult?" Link asked over his shoulder.

"That road used to be the main and only path to Mount Lanayru and the Spring of Wisdom, Master Link," Dorian replied as he caught up to the pair. "I'm assuming you saw it cuts through a canyon of water? The walls of that canyon are covered with an incredible work of stone called the Promenade. The road is actually a giant stone walkway with arches and pillars, all built around the canyon's waterfall. It is written that the Promenade's grandeur was such that those journeying to the Spring of Wisdom felt spiritually uplifted and prepared to seek Hylia's guidance."

"What about all that is dangerous, then?" Brigo asked as he joined the group. They were deep in the woods now. Remembering his previous night's review of the Sheikah Slate, Link thought they must begin to thin soon.

"The Promenade was overrun by the Calamity," Dorian answered sadly. "It is said Ganonspawn tried to scale the mountain and destroy the spring itself. When they failed, they made the canyon their home. They were the third and final tine of a three-pronged assault on Kakariko. We are lucky to have survived."

The Sheikah was momentarily quiet at this reflection, but Link did not interject. The trees were indeed retreating, and he could see the rocky foothills of Walnot Mountain ahead.

"Even now, lizalfos dwell in the Promenade," Dorian finally continued. "They are skilled at remaining hidden until it is too late, and that is why none have made the journey to the Spring of Wisdom in over a century… since you and Princess Zelda, I suppose, Sir Link."

"Why would you say that?" Link asked, only half-paying attention. "Someone could have made the journey after us."

"I'm afraid not, Sir Link," Dorian replied quietly. "You see, none can journey to the Spring of Wisdom until they are at least seventeen years old, and… and it is written that the Calamity struck on Zelda's seventeenth birthday."

Link had been about to take his first step onto the rocky beginnings of the mountain. His mind whirled. Seventeen. A girl, or a very young woman at best. Link had never considered Zelda's literal age, had never stripped away her name and station enough to process that a girl scarcely more than a child would have depended on him, only to face Ganon alone in the end. The fact was stark reality, and suddenly he had a furious desire to reach the spring has quickly as possible.

Dorian and Brigo interpreted Link's silence correctly and left him alone for the next few hours of their journey. The sun climbed as they did, its rays finally striking them after clearing Walnot's summit. The trio's path was as Purah had promised — smooth and wide. Once it carried them to Walnot's top-most ridge, they turned north toward the rearing monolith of Mount Lanayru.

Though the sun was now high and uncovered, the air was cooling quickly. Link had already dug out his doublet and was wearing his cloak over it. Dorian and Brigo were similarly bundled, their breath misting out in front of them.

The journey grew more difficult. Rocky crags reared out of an increasingly dense fog, which diluted the sun's light until it was difficult for them to determine exactly where it was. This forced Link to consult the Sheikah Slate more than once to determine their location and reaffirm their path.

After an undetermined amount of time, the trio stopped to rest at a short flat area along the ridge. Soft, blue-green light bloomed to life. Dorian had unpacked his luminous stones — wondrous rocks that emitted their own enchanting light. He handed one to Link, then beckoned to Brigo to join them.

"Yeh showed me the things already, lad," the patrolman began, but Dorian cut him off with a gesture and once again waved him to forward. Nodding silently, Brigo crouched near the other two companions.

"Someone is following us," the Sheikah whispered quietly so none but they could possibly hear. "For at least two hours, now. The mist has kept me from seeing who or how, but I believe it to be Garill or Joute — or both."

Link's eyes scanned the area around him, but the exercise was useless. Swirling mists bred from the cold and snow that now covered most of the mountain hid everything from view save that which was directly in front of them. He could see, however, that Brigo was dubious.

"How do yeh figure it's them, lad?" he asked softly. "They left the village through the west gate. No way they could circle back. They'd have to go back through Hateno, an' there's no way in Hyrule Reede or the villagers would let 'em."

Dorian looked at both of his friends intently, as though he was about to share something truly profound.

"I believe both of them are Yiga," the Sheikah said quickly.

Link simply frowned in ignorance of the term, but Brigo's snort of derision could not have come any sooner.

"I know they're a pair o' bokoblin guts, but yeh'll have a time convincin' meh they're evil magicians come to steal meh soul while I'm sleepin'!"

Dorian shook his head impatiently. Link was already tempted to believe his Sheikah friend. Young though he was, Dorian was not one to risk making a mistake of seemingly enormous magnitude. He had, Link realized, held onto this suspicion for nearly a week.

"Explain, Dorian," Link said quietly with a look at Brigo. "Believe it or not, the word doesn't jog any memories for me."

"To be honest, I am somewhat surprised it doesn't," Dorian admitted. "There are at least two written occurrences of your having confronted the Yiga, including one in which you saved Princess Zelda from almost certain death in the Gerudo Desert."

Link frowned, but his mind remained a blank slate on this subject.  _Will the spring change that?_  he wondered "Go on, then, what are they?" he said aloud.

For answer, Dorian used a finger to trace a single, vertical line into the snow. He added two diagonal lines at its end, each branching off in different directions.

"For countless ages, the Sheikah were one people," Dorian explained while tracing the single line. "United in purpose and under the light of the Goddess Hylia."

Dorian's finger then reached the fork where the vertical line split in two. "Ten millennia ago, the Sheikah created the technology that helped seal away that age's incarnation of Ganon. They were praised and revered for their power. At first. Then many began to fear what that technology could do. They feared the Divine Beasts and Guardians might one day turn against their creators."

"They were not wrong," the young Sheikah added softly. "Only early in their fears."

Link did not say anything. He thought back to a heated and unknowing retort he had thrown at Impa's face.  _The Divine Beasts you Sheikah constructed were overtaken...So in a way, you failed too._

"The Sheikah were soon deemed by all but the royal family to be too dangerous for the common good of Hyrule. That is why," Dorian explained while pointing to one of the shorter, diagonal lines, "we have remained hidden in Kakariko for so long. Our ancestors cast off most of our technological advances and chose to serve their appointment as Hyrule's protectors through more discreet means."

Suddenly Link understood why the shrines and towers of the Sheikah had lain asleep and abandoned. Once, they would have been used regularly. Slates such as the one on his hip might have been commonplace, a ready and available method for anyone to travel from place to place. That power, however, had clearly frightened those who did not understand it — or trust those who held it.

"Some did not believe they deserved an exile's life," Dorian continued, now pointing to the other diagonal line. "They forged a hatred towards the kingdom that now shunned them. These sad souls swore their allegiance to Ganon."

Brigo issued a low whistle of amazement. "I'll admit, lad, I'd never heard them explained like that. Always thought they were bogeymen meant to put tykes in bed and young patrolmen on guard."

Dorian shook his head sadly. "Though I have never faced one myself, the Yiga, as those outcasts came to call themselves, are all too real. So complete was their transformation that they made it their mission to support Ganon and assist his return in any way they could. The Yiga are mirrored opposites to the Sheikah."

"What makes you think Garill and Joute are Yiga?" Link interjected.

"I had but a suspicion when they left Hateno the night we arrived, Sir Link," Doiran answered readily. "Even had they somehow slipped past the hundreds of Ganonspawn in the forest, they would have left some sign. There was none. I believe they either left with the bokoblins' blessing or with the aid of the dark magic the Yiga practice."

"Then there is this," Dorian continued, overriding a protest Brigo had been about to issue. "The core of the Yiga's power lies in falsehood and deceit. Joute and Garill's efforts to 'help' those at Hateno were as hollow as their pleasantries. Through their magic, Yiga are able to assume the appearance of normal men. I believe those two are Yiga, and it served their clan to undermine the village's defenses before the Ganonspawn attacked."

 _It all fits_ , Link thought.  _The way they acted, even why I reacted the way I did._  He mentally chalked up the latter to instinct, similar to his ability to fight without memory of learning how. Speaking of memories…

"What were you getting at with your comment on the Gerudo Desert?" Link asked suddenly. The young Sheikah greeted the question with a satisfied smile, much as a proud teacher would react to a promising student.

"It is almost certain the Yiga made their nest in Gerudo, but Sheikah of generations past sent to find them never returned," Dorian explained. "We had already seen Garill was eager for confrontation. Probing his true identity — and seeing his reaction to it — was what ultimately convinced me he and Joute are Yiga."

Brigo could not help but nod his head at the logic of it all, but then he immediately looked around as though they might be attacked any second.

"They might be gettin' suspicious with us stoppin' this long, then," the patrolman said out of the side of his mouth. "Much as I'd like to find 'em first, I do no fancy our chances splittin' up in this soup."

Link agreed with his friend on both counts. "Let's get moving while it's still light," he said as he got to his feet. "We stand a better chance staying together. Dorian, you take the rear. I'll lead since I know where we're going. Brigo, make sure we don't stray from one another."

The Sheikah nodded, but held them up a second longer as he fished something out of his large pack. They were small glass vials, each filled with a reddish liquid. He gave one each to the others and unstoppered one for himself.

"Heat elixir," Dorian explained. "Made from red darners and summerwing butterflies. It will keep the cold at bay as we get higher."

Link partook of the concoction gratefully and immediately felt a warming sensation spread throughout his entire body. He could see some of the color return to his friends' faces as well.

Awareness heightened, bodies warmed and resolve unshaken, the trio set off once again into the swirling mists of Mount Lanayru.

* * *

Joute craned his head ever so slightly over the rise behind which he and Garill were hidden, making certain that the small halo of blue-green light was moving away from them before relaxing. Tracking the trio in these conditions was exhausting work, even for them.

Both of the odd men were garbed in heavy clothing to ward off the bitter cold swirling around them. Joute much preferred the natural warmth of his homeland, but there was no place for preference while accomplishing a task of such honor. Anything and everything must be done to ensure their success.

At that specific moment, that included talking reason into Garill's overly hot head.

"Why have we not yet attacked those insolent heathen!" the younger companion snarled through his scarf, his off-center eyes glaring malevolently at his elder counterpart. "Our chances have been too numerous to count by now!"

Joute nodded patiently. Patience always won the day. Patience always yielded the prize. His particular mentor had ingrained patience into him more than anything else, until it had become his first, second and last option.

"Numerous, yes, but none good," Joute replied calmly while keeping his eye on the slowly moving lights ahead. "You would attack with us being outnumbered and they holding the high ground? I do not esteem those odds as highly as you."

"You overestimate their chances!" Garill answered defiantly. "The boy is a shell of what our master claims him to be! The patrolman is a fool, and the Sheikah brat too young to know a sword from a skillet!"

"Then go," Joute replied, his arm casually motioning in the direction their quarry had gone. "Expose them for the frauds they are. I do not doubt you alone could accomplish what twenty-five score bokoblins and a Stalfos could not."

Hatred, unsheathed and burning, shone from Garill's eyes, yet he did not move on Joute's sarcastic invitation. His restraint was especially impressive given its reluctance, Joute thought.

"What, then?" Garill finally asked resentfully. "We cannot follow much farther. We dare not risk discovering whether the power of the spring is still active and, if it is, whether it might recognize us."

Joute nodded thoughtfully. His younger companion was giving this more thought than he would have received credit for. Finally, he stood up. Their prey was far enough ahead that doing so would not risk discovery.

"We know where they are going after the spring," Joute said, dusting off the snow from his clothes. This truly was a cursed place. "You still have the offering, I assume?"

For answer, Garill hefted a large sack that bulged oddly in several different places. Shaking it produced several metallic clanks from within. Joute nodded in satisfaction.

"Good. Then we must hurry. We have time yet to set the snare before our game has moved on."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Table-setting chapters are a fun write for me, especially when it involves "history." Dorian is a valuable resource, here, just as he is whenever Link ventures somewhere new. Brigo ties the group together with a loud dash of blunt humor. He's probably been the most pleasant surprise in terms of non-cannon characters.
> 
> Say goodbye to Purah for now. As awesomely funny as she is, the Sheikah "girl" will take a backseat to more pressing matters moving forward. That's not an exaggerated tease. Joute and Garill's plans will reveal much more than what Dorian has already guessed. On the plus side: I think you'll really enjoy what's coming in the next chapter.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading. I hope you're enjoying it thus far. If you're new or haven't done so yet, feel free to drop a Fav/Follow and a Bookmark. I hope life is treating you well. -- MattWords


	8. The Spring of Wisdom

By the time darkness descended upon Mount Lanayru, Link and his companions felt as though their entire lives had passed in a haze of mist, keen winds and needling snow. What parts of their faces remained exposed to the elements were now coated with white powder through which their eyes squinted to find the best candidate for each next step they took.

Link had not bothered to set down the Sheikah Slate for some time. He kept it firmly clenched in one freezing hand, the other holding a luminous stone. He constantly consulted the slate's map and its telltale yellow arrow — the mark showing his living location — to keep himself and his friends from wandering astray.

The trio had maintained the same formation since their brief stop some hours before — Link leading, Brigo in the middle and Dorian acting as rear guard. The Sheikah had informed Link a short time before that they were no longer being followed. He had no answer as to why, which made Link even more suspicious of their pursuers' intentions. He sincerely doubted they had simply lost their way after following them this far unseen.

It was during this dark vein of thought that Link's right foot, expecting to find higher ground, fell to the same altitude as his left. The unexpectedly level ground caused him to stumble and fall face-first into the snow.

Brigo and Dorian immediately raced forward, aware only that their friend had all but disappeared. They found Link laughing ruefully at himself while brushing off the fair amount of snow now covering his front.

"The ground flattens here!" he shouted to be heard above the wind and snow. "We'd best make camp now!"

"Don't suppose you could find a ruddy overhang or group o' trees in this mess!" Brigo yelled back at him over the gale.

Link once again glanced at his slate. Though the arrow appeared very close to the oval of blue labeled "Spring of Wisdom," the lines depicting the mountain's elevation showed it still lay some distance above. Immediately east of them, however, was drawn a small collection of brown splotches that Link knew represented shrubbery of some kind. He motioned for his friends to follow. Sure enough, they discovered a modest grove, albeit one devoid of leaves or animal life.

The trio assembled Brigo's large tent as quickly as possible, fastening it to the ground and to two nearby pines. Link was grateful when the job was done. He thought the heat elixir's effect must be wearing off. Luckily Dorian was already blowing a small mound of twigs and brush to life by the time he entered.

The tent contained the smokeless fire's warmth well. The companions discarded their wet cloaks and let them dry nearby while warming their hands, faces and other extremities. Dorian had stowed the luminous stones, while Brigo was fishing out various bits of supplies.

"Need somethin' nice an' hot after that lot out there, lads," the patrolman mused. "Some meat an' greens stew ought to do the trick. While I get about doin' that, can yeh tell me how much further to that spring of ours?"

"We should get there before noon tomorrow," Link guessed. "After that, it's hard to tell how long to make the trip back down."

"It should not take us as long to descend to the Lanayru Road as it took us to travel up the mountain's southern range," Dorian offered. "There would be a more natural path from the spring to the Naydra Snowfield at the western foot of the mountain. That was the route taken by all who visited the spring in centuries past."

Brigo nodded. "Let's hope we can clear this rock by tomorrow night, then," he said earnestly. "I do no fancy tryin' to camp in this weather again."

"I thought you were used to this sort of thing growing up, Brig?" Link offered dryly. The patrolman snorted in response.

"Oh, aye, I'm used to livin' in ice-covered mountains if it's inside a house o' sealed wood with a stout fireplace!" Brigo corrected his friend. "Safer from the cold an' from others, too! Speakin' o' that, yeh still have no idea wot happened to whoever was trackin' us?"

"No," Dorian answered, shaking his head. "I can only guess, but if they are truly Yiga, they may have been loath to come any nearer a sacred spring of Hylia. Though they have forsaken the Goddess, they are as afraid of risking her power as any. Perhaps more."

"Let us hope, then," Link said quietly, his blue eyes gazing into the fire, "that they remain afraid through tomorrow."

 

* * *

 

The next morning brought even more biting cold than the previous day. Dorian wasted no time doling out more heat elixir to Link and Brigo, who drank gladly. The resulting warmth, combined with every stitch of clothing they possessed, made the journey far more tolerable.

Upon exiting the tent, however, the trio discovered that the swirling mists and winds had died down. Undisturbed snow blanketed the level clearing in which they had camped. Motes of ice hung suspended in the air, enhancing a scene of breathtaking beauty.

An audible sniff from Brigo caused Link and Dorian to turn in surprise.

"It do remind me o' home, lads," the patrolman said in a slightly choked voice. "It do remind me o' home."

"I cannot imagine living where such beauty is commonplace," Dorian said appreciatively before equipping his weapons.

Link nodded in agreement while helping Brigo take down the tent. "You are lucky to have known such a sight in your youth, friend."

It did not take long for the companions to finish breaking camp. Though Dorian again assured them the previous day's followers were nowhere near, the Sheikah still took the time to hide all traces of their stay. Only when the surrounding snow was again made smooth did they start up the narrow path winding up the narrowing body of Mount Lanayru. The group spoke little, conserving its strength for the increasingly difficult climb.

The first sign of their unique destination showed itself in the form of a massive ice pillar rearing from the right side of the path. Its bluntly pointed end jutted outward away from the mountain, glittering like a pale blue spike in the morning sunlight.

More frozen monoliths reared above them as their journey continued. Then Link, still leading the party, stopped suddenly when his foot stepped not on snow or rock, but man-made stone. It was, he realized, part of a long series of steps continuing up the mountain. The stone was partially covered and cracked, results of nature's undisturbed hold for a century.

Brigo frowned at the steps upon reaching them, the reality and near-completion of their journey clear in their presence. Dorian, on the other hand, smiled broadly, as though evidence of such a storied place was more than he had ever dreamed of seeing.

Link stowed the slate on his belt. The stairs' winding trek was guide enough up the mountain's southern side. His heart pounded with anticipation. It was an effort to not leave his friends behind and take the steps two or three at a time. They had to be close. The path turned sharply to the right just above and ahead of them.

A hand on his shoulder stopped Link's physical and emotional surge forward.

"How do yeh plan on gettin' through that, lad?" Brigo asked through the scarf over his mouth. Dorian was right beside him, his eyes furrowed above his balaclava as they examined the area ahead.

Puzzled, Link turned to look at the path ahead of them once again.

"What are you talking about, Brig?" he asked over his shoulder. "There's nothing blocking the way."

"Well, if a great wall of ruddy ice is nothin' to yeh, maybe yer a greater hero than either of us knows," the patrolman said dryly. "We've neither pickaxe nor enough wood to burn the thing down, but mayhap yeh've a better idea?"

Now Link was truly confused. The stairs ahead were indeed framed by sheer ice pillars and rocky crags of stone, but there was no sign of any wall blocking the way. If anything it was the most forgiving part of their journey up the mountain.

"Listen here, Brig, if this is some jest, it's in truly poor taste," Link said irritably. They were too close to the spring now for one of the patrolman's witty exchanges. "If the cold has addled you, then we can stop and —"

"You don't see it, do you, Sir Link?"

Link and Brigo both turned to Dorian, who had walked ahead of both and was now running his hands over nothing. At least, that's how Link saw it. The patrolman, however, gestured pointedly to the Sheikah as though to illustrate the point he had been making.

"See what?" Link asked slowly while walking forward. He looked at Dorian's hands, which seemed as though they were pressed up against flat air. Finally, unable to resist the temptation, he raised his own hand and slowly extended it forward. It met nothing.

Dorian and Brigo, however, gasped in surprise.

"What?" Link demanded. "What's going on?"

The patrolman still appeared amazed at what he was seeing, but the young Sheikah's eyes filled with a sudden solemnity.

"Only you are meant to pass on to the spring," Dorian observed reverently. "We see a wall of ice denying us passage. I am assuming, Sir Link, you see nothing of the sort."

Comprehension dawning on him, Link turned back and once again raised his hand forward. He neither saw nor felt anything. Profane mutterings of amazement issued from Brigo.

"But why?" Link asked, bewildered. "You are my friends and I wish you to come with me."

The Sheikah, however, shook his head in firm denial.

"It is Hylia that has made this so," Dorian said firmly. "I do not understand it, nor will I argue the fact. Go on, Sir Link. We will wait here for your return."

And with that, the young Sheikah began unpacking a small amount of wood for a fire. Brigo snorted in discontent, looked once more at Link and the wall he could not see, then snorted again.

"Get on with it, then," the patrolman huffed. "We'll wait out here in glory and tell our granbabbies the grand tale o' how we waited fer the hero o' Hyrule while freezin' our fannies."

Smiling at his friend's dramatics, Link turned to face the path. Slowly, as though afraid he would encounter what had blocked his companions' way, he stepped forward. Like his hand, the rest of him encountered nothing.

Disappearing from his friends' sight, Link walked up the stairs, turned right, and found himself facing the Spring of Wisdom.

 

* * *

 

The culmination of the aged stone steps was visible as soon as Link completed their final turn. The natural structure of the mountain split around and cupped the spring itself: a small body of water miraculously unfrozen near Mount Lanayru's summit. The spring was shallow, low enough to allow a small bridge of stone to cross it.

What that bridge led to reminded Link of another place of ageless history: the decaying Temple of Time at the Great Plateau. Just as it had there, the stone walkway gave way to a small staircase which emptied onto a raised platform. Stone pillars in even more disarray than those at the temple rose from the water, some leaning precariously to one side.

Approaching slowly, Link realized the stone pillars ringing the platform itself were mere stubs of their former selves. Perhaps, long ago, they had held up a roof or gazebo under which previous visitors had offered prayer.

The object of those invocations stood on the other side of the spring: a statue of a robed woman with downturned wings rearing over her shoulders. Her eyes and mouth conveyed a kind smile, as though she found her visitor's presence welcome.

Mount Lanayru's peak rose immediately behind the statue of the Goddess, its core almost completely hidden by the columns of ice all around it. Wrapped around it, its head hovering just above Hylia's likeness, was a dragon.

Link whipped the Sheikah blade from its sheath in a heartbeat, his heart beating to jump out of his chest. He had not seen the beast at first. It's blue-white skin blended almost perfectly among the mountain's icy monoliths. It was the sun, reflecting off bluer ridges along the beast's back and a mass of blue horns on top of its head, that had betrayed the dragon's presence. Thin claws of the same color clung to the mountainside, while a tail topped with a mace-like gathering of blue spikes marked the end of its serpentine body.

Now that he could separate the creature from the mountain on which it perched, Link could see two yellow eyes gazing calmly down at him. Clearly, it had seen him approach and was monitoring his every move even now. Link wondered whether, like the shrine on the plateau, this was some kind of test that would not begin until he acted. But what could he do against a creature of this size and untold power?

" _Do not be afraid, Link. This is Naydra, the spirit of Mount Lanayru commissioned by the Goddess to protect the Spring of Wisdom."_

Link's vision swam before him. He had not heard the delicate lilts of that voice since first awakening on the plateau. Now that he knew it belonged to Zelda, its familiarity ached all the more.

"Why am I here, Zelda?" Link asked her aloud. "What must I do?"

" _WHO ARE YOU, BOY? TO WHOM DO YOU SPEAK?"_

Link knelt at the force with which the second voice resonated in his mind. It came, he realized, from the dragon, whose eyes were gazing upon him with an intelligence far beyond that of any mere animal. They conveyed a knowledge and authority of ages uncounted, making Link feel next to nothing by comparison.

"I… I am Link," he answered while trying to regain his composure. "I heard the princess, Zelda, speak to me. She… she needs my help."

" _YOU DOUBT THE TRUTH OF YOUR OWN WORDS."_

Link stood slowly. An overpowering sense of pity had washed over him. He knew he was somehow feeling Naydra's words as much as hearing them. The sensation was emotionally overwhelming. Hot tears stung his eyes.

"I must know who I am, Spirit!" he cried to the dragon's head hovering above him. "I remember next to nothing, and know even less of what I must do next!"

Understanding. It seeped into him, lifted his soul just when it felt despair would claim him.

" _YOU COME FOR THE MOST PRECIOUS WISDOM OF ALL. YOUR PLEA IS HEARD, YOUR PRESENCE ACCEPTED. STEP INTO THE WATER."_

Though there was no wind here -  _why did I not notice that before_? Link thought to himself - the mountain air's bite was cold enough. Getting wet in such wintery conditions seemed foolhardy at best, fatal at worst.

"Why?" Link shouted at the ancient creature. "What will happen to me?"

" _NOT TO YOU, BUT WITHIN, AND ONLY THAT WHICH THE GODDESS WOULD RESTORE."_

Understanding even less than before but feeling he would learn nothing more from the dragon, Link removed sword, bow, quiver and slate from his person and set them aside. He then stepped off the stone platform, steeling himself for what was to come.

Link had thought mentally acknowledging the existing chill would be enough. That was nothing, however, compared to the agony of the water. The moment his leg sank into the spring's surprising depths -  _How can it be deep enough for me? -_  of the spring, his body was wracked with violent tremors. Link thought his bones must jump out of his body, so shaken was he by the cold.

" _THUS BEGINS YOUR RETURN TO SELF. THUS BEGINS THE RESTORATION OF HYLIA'S CHAMPION."_

The water rose to Link's chest. He lost all feeling in his legs. Icy fire seeped into his lungs.

" _DO NOT FEAR THE PAST, LINK OF HYRULE. LET IT FILL YOU."_

The water was seeping over his mouth, over his eyes. Was he going to drown?

" _LET IT FILL YOU."_

 

* * *

 

Flowers bloomed gaily at the base of Mount Lanayru. Blossoms of orange, white and red sang of summer's coming, a fact reinforced by the complete lack of snow in the normally aptly named Naydra Snowfield. In place of thick white drifts, generous beds of green grass carpeted the forest floor that lay in the mountain's western shadow. The setting sun enhanced the entire scene with a golden glow, as though the day's glory had saved itself solely for this time and place.

Link saw none of the scenic beauty. His gaze was fixed on the young woman walking three paces ahead of him. Always three paces, with Link just one pace to the right so he could see ahead of his charge as well.

The woman's golden hair cascaded down to the small of her back. She was clothed in a spotless white dress that left her shoulders bare and stopped halfway between her knees and ankles. A belt of gold and blue, secured by a circular clasp adorned with a pyramid of three golden triangles, encircled her midriff. Gold bracelets adorned each of her forearms, their central design - the same triangle insignia of Hyrule - sitting atop her wrists. A necklace of gold closely encircled the base of her neck, fashioned to look like a pair of wings. Only her sandals, which were made of stout leather, did not conform to her regal appearance.

She had not spoken once during their descent from the mountain. Neither had Link, though that was because he knew better. Though he had come to know Zelda better over the previous year, had perhaps earned whatever version of friendship was possible given their formal relationship, he knew words of encouragement or comfort were useless now. Though she walked with as much dignity as ever, the symbol of Hyrule's hope now considered herself its opposite.

And what could Link say? Zelda had poured herself into her training as much as he had into his. But that was where the similarities ended. He could feel the sword on his back, could grasp its dark blue hilt with his hands. He could train from dawn until dusk, weaving the forms of a master swordsman until they were as ingrained and natural to him as breathing.

For Zelda, there was nothing to see, nothing to hold, nothing to fix or correct. For the thousandth time, she had fumbled in the dark for the power that was supposedly her birthright. For the thousandth time, her hands had come away empty.

Link felt the hopelessness he knew suffused the princess's soul. For him, the only focus had ever been what was next. For the better part of three years, part of that answer had remained the same - protect Zelda at any and all cost. He had done so without hesitation or thought, had nearly died doing so more than once. As her appointed knight, Link would continue to perform that duty.

Now, however, his expression was clouded even as his eyes remained locked on Hyrule's anointed princess and protector. What was next? And how soon would it need to be done?

The eastern gate to Lanayru Road lay ahead. Like the steps leading to the spring on the mountain, the stone wall and archway were older than even Zelda knew. Another time, Link would well have expected her to comment on its incalculable age, to spout theory after theory as to when it had been built, who had built it, and why it had been designed just so. She had issued no comment when they had passed through it the previous day, nor did she do so now. Its moss-covered and pitted face held no interest for the normally studious princess.

It was the individuals waiting at the gateway that finally seized Link's attention. There were four of them, each as different in appearance as personality.

The left-most figure was by far the largest of the four, his round form nearly twice the height of the others. Massively muscular arms and hands hung at his sides and nearly touched the ground. A broad sword belt of chain links slashed across a chest as broad as a boulder, held together by a clasp bearing a red diamond sigil topped by three smaller triangles. Criss-crossing underneath it was a sash of sky blue fabric. A mane of white hair framed the Goron's jet-black eyes and wide mouth, while an enormous sword hilt reared from over his right shoulder. Daruk was normally the most cheerful of the group. Now, he just appeared anxious.

Next to him stood a tall but much thinner individual. He, too, wore a blue sash, but his was wrapped around the neck, the end billowing out smartly over his sleeveless tunic and breastplate to show off the white bird insignia sewn into the fabric. The Rito's feathers were dark blue, save for the white edges of his pinion and head feathers. Four braids hung out and down from the back of his head, the green beads capping their ends dangling slightly in the summer breeze. Revali's eyes were as green as those beads, and they were narrowed to vertical slits in his usual expression of critical appraisal.

In the past, the sight of the third figure might have set Link's heart racing and his stomach into nervous backflips. Now, Mipha's presence only made him ache for the loss of something they had barely enjoyed to begin with. The diminutive Zora was breathtakingly beautiful. Her smooth skin was white on her face and the front of her body. The rest of her, including her fishtailed head, was dark red save for the blue-and-yellow fins on her forearms and hips. A silver headdress made of diamonds, moons and teardrops clung to the headfins that framed a delicate, heart-shaped face. A similarly fine necklace collared the length of her neck, with turquoise jewels dangling from its base. Her sky blue sash was, as it would have been with any Zora not armed for battle, her only other clothing.

Mipha's large yellow eyes kept shifting between Zelda and Link, the latter noticed, and the ache in his heart increased. Part of him desperately wanted to answer the shred of hope those eyes contained. The other part of him wanted it snuffed out completely by the reality of what lay before them. How could they hope for tomorrow, when today was so uncertain?

Only the fourth member of the waiting party appeared at ease. Like every Gerudo woman Link had ever seen, Urbosa's body was lean and fit, with no trace of fat or unused muscle on her. Unlike most of her people, however, there was a softness to her curves that enhanced what was already exotic beauty. The entirety of the tall woman's body was sun-darkened, save what little her clothing concealed. Her severely cut halter was edged in gold, as were her upturned shoulder-guards. Her own blue sash, longer than those of her companions, was cunningly tied and divided to serve as a skirt that covered most of one leg and hardly any of the other.

Dark red hair fuller than other Gerudo spilled out and back from the gold-and-emerald circlet that rested on her crown. Large golden hoops hung from her ears, occasionally clinking against a trio of golden rings encircling her neck. The desert queen's bright green eyes gazed steadily at the young woman who approached them.  _Perhaps_   _she will know what to say,_ Link thought desperately.

The four of them approached slowly as Zelda and Link drew near. Though the princess had stopped, Link remained behind her. He should have been watching the surrounding area, but he could not take his eyes off the golden curtain of hair.

Daruk, always the most garrulous of the group, broke the tense silence.

"So?" he asked in his warm, rumbling voice. "Don't keep us in suspense. How'd everything go up there on the mountain?"

Link did not hear her answer, for she had issued none. Not vocally, at least. Only a slow shake of that golden waterfall confirmed what had happened - or rather, what had not happened.

Daruk appeared absolutely crestfallen. Link could not blame him. Hearty optimism was the strength of the Gorons and especially their Champion. Daruk had been sure this time would be different for the princess. He had been wrong.

To Link's surprise, Revali stepped forward, his eyes open and startled rather than half-closed with their usual aloofness.

"So you didn't feel anything?" the Rito persisted worriedly. "No power at all?

This time Zelda did speak, though the pain of doing so was all too clear.

"I'm sorry, but no," she half-whispered while averting her gaze.

It was, as Link had hoped, Urbosa who offered the sincere encouragement the princess needed.

"Then let's move on," the Gerudo said firmly, but not unkindly, through blue-painted lips. "You've done all you could. Feeling sorry for yourself won't be of any help. Anything could finally spark the power to seal Ganon away. We just have to keep looking for that … thing."

Urbosa's last words were spoken with a small smile, much as an older sister might give to a younger sibling. Daruk nodded desperately, clinging to the confidence he usually carried in abundance. Even Revali seemed to emit a willingness to believe, if not necessarily belief itself.

Even that was far more than Zelda seemed willing to show. Link could only see the side of her face from his vantage point, but even that much appeared downcast as she continued to avoid looking at those who had sworn to fight Ganon alongside her. Knowing her as well as he did, Link understood Zelda felt totally and completely unworthy of their support.

"That's kind of you," she murmured listlessly. "Thank you."

Mipha looked positively heartbroken at Zelda's despair. This was not unusual for a Zora, which were usually the most empathetic of Hyrule's peoples. Mipha was especially kindhearted, even among her own. Her station being commensurate to Zelda's, she had always maintained an equal footing with the Hylian princess despite the latter's role against the imminent threat.

Now, with that role in danger of collapsing, Mipha reached out to her human counterpart.

"If I may…?"

The Zora's delicate request to speak seemed to stir Zelda to wakefulness. Mipha was a quiet soul by nature; the rare occasions she did say something always earned the attention of others.

"I thought you…," Mipha began, "Well, I'm not sure how to put this into words…"

Link thought the Zora seemed… reluctant? No. Embarrassed. She was embarrassed at what she was about to say, which was an emotion he had never witnessed from her before. Why?

"I was thinking about what I do when I'm healing," the Zora finally continued. "You know, what usually goes through my mind…"

As she spoke, Mipha's gaze flickered briefly to Link. He suddenly dreaded what she was going to say. Part of him already knew what it would be. The only question was whether his heart wanted to hear it - or keep it a guarded secret forever. It seemed to change its mind a hundred times in the span of seconds.

"It helps when I think - when I think about -"

And just when it seemed Mipha had plucked up the courage to say it, a deafening roar wrent the air. It shook the surrounding mountains and made the ground tremble beneath them. Zelda nearly fell to her knees before Link caught her from behind. He could still smell the jasmine she had washed into her hair the day before.

Having regained his balance first, Revali launched himself into the air. The updraft from his large wings - a skill only he possessed even among the Rito - briefly set the others' hair aflutter. Higher he soared, until he was well above the surrounding mountains. Link could just make out that he was facing northwest - toward Hyrule Castle.

Even as Link registered this, clouds of black tinged with red light spread across the sky, blocking out the sun. Darkness descended immediately, with only the flashes of crimson lightning to dispel it.

The others, including Zelda, turned toward Link, and it took him a moment to realize why. Soft light illuminated the right shoulder of his sky blue tunic. Without a word, he unsheathed the Sword, and saw the length of its blade was suffused in a brighter version of that same light. He had read of the blade's phenomenon. This was the first time he had seen it.

Link resheathed the Sword just as Revali landed with a burst of speed and wind.

"It's here," the Rito said quickly, his green eyes blazing with battle light.

"Are you sure?" Mipha asked, her yellow eyes glowing brightly in the gathering gloom.

"Positive," the Rito confirmed. "It is at the castle."

"That makes no sense!" Zelda cried. She looked overwhelmed, as well she might with the last threads of logic left to her ripping apart. "My studies showed it would most likely come from-"

"Let's stop wasting time!" Daruk interrupted forcefully. Link gave him credit. Even as a Goron chieftain, he would never have interrupted in such a manner. Now, it might be best thing not just for Zelda, but for everyone.

"We're gonna need everything we've got to take that thing down!" Daruk continued gruffly while emphatically pounding one of his massive hands with the other. "Now, Champions! To your Divine Beasts! Link will need to meet Ganon head on when we attack. This must be a unified assault!"

Link did not miss the soft scoff of disgust nor the sideways glance from Revali. The Rito's moment of understanding had passed, his old grievance resurfaced. Link did not care. All that mattered was Zelda's safety - and the sudden yearning to confront the source of the black skies above.

His first concern was already shared by another. Urbosa strode over to Zelda and put comforting, sun-darkened hands on the princess's pale shoulders.

"Come, we should go," the Gerudo calmly urged. "We need to get you someplace safe."

Link's heart burned with gratitude for woman. With her power still untapped, Zelda would be nothing more than a target to Ganon. Link was not sure whether he could protect her and fight the Calamity simultaneously.

Zelda, however, appeared to consider Urbosa's words as an offer, one which she ultimately rejected. Looking up, her soft green eyes blazed with a newfound determination. Link was strongly reminded of her stubborn persistence in her field studies. There was something more to this, however, and he had no idea what it might be.

"No," Zelda answered firmly while twisting out of Urbosa's soft grip. "I may not be of much use on the battlefield, but there must - there  _must_ be something I can do to help!"

Daruk scratched his white-maned head, obviously at a loss as to what Zelda  _could_ do. Mipha appeared encouraged at the princess's renewed determination. Urbosa once again looked the part of the older sister, concerned that her younger sibling might be getting in over her head. Revali wasn't even looking at her, but rather at the sky above, clearly eager to commence his own role in the coming battle.

And Link? For once, his mind was unclear as to what should be done. He felt as though every part of his being was pulled in a different direction. His heart went out to Mipha. Would he see her again? As if he had spoken the question aloud, the Zora princess turned to face him. Her eyes shone with a light that filled him and made him feel empty all at once. What, in the end, could he offer her?

Wrenching his eyes from Mipha's beautiful gaze, Link turned to the northwest. There, his immortal enemy awaited, its coming already stirring something bestial deep inside him. His hand itched to re-draw the Sword meant to seal away the very thing that was now unleashed.

Then Link's blue eyes settled again on Zelda. The rising wind was blowing her golden hair away from her face, which was set with a mix of worry and resolution. At that moment, he no longer cared about the what's, why's or how's of events already in motion. He knew only that he and Zelda were linked, and that he must do all in his power to keep that link from being severed.

Whatever the cost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a rare chapter where I debated both sides of too-much-or-not-enough. If the springs matter, than so too must the dragons, but if so how much? Some of my favorite fantasy novels involve mysterious scenes of wonder that aren't explained to death -- and that's okay. If you're a Star Wars fan (Midi-chlorians, anyone?) you likely appreciate the less-is-more approach.
> 
> That being said, I absolutely love fleshing out Link's memories. So much is hinted at in the cutscenes, yet Link is frustratingly emotionless in them. That's no longer the case here, where we glimpse just how many different directions his heart is tugged. Zelda, Mipha, Hyrule... each lays claim to his attention. This was also a chance to further delve into Link's history with Zelda, and the journeys that bring them from defined point to point.
> 
> Depicting the other Champions is just as big a treat, even if this is just a broad introduction compared to the much more personal memories that are to come. Do you have a favorite Champion? If so, why? Don't hesitate to leave a comment. It's no mistake that so many of our favorite heroes share more than a thread of perceived commonality with ourselves.
> 
> The aftermath of Link finding this memory contains a surprising twist. I pray you're okay with it. If you like what you've read so far, feel free to give to give those bookmark/kudos buttons a click, and thanks so much for being here in the first place! Hope life is treating you well. -- MattWords


	9. Stories and Snares

Strong hands pulled at Link’s arms and waist. He tried furiously to wrest free of them, so intent was he to confront the demon that even now was breaking free. Its arrival had infused him with rage so great that he was choking on it.

“Come on then!” someone shouted at him.

Link’s wrath suffocated him. He couldn’t breathe.

“Come on then, lad!”

Link’s head broke the surface of the water. His body did not register the cold, only the violent shivers it was emitting to keep itself alive. He did not even feel the iron grips of Dorian and Brigo, both of whom hauled his drenched, clothed body out of the spring. With a great final effort, they flung Link onto the stone platform.

Brigo immediately began shedding his cloak.

“Hurry, lad!” he shouted urgently to Dorian. “Give me yer cloak! Strike up a fire while I get ‘im out o’ these soppin’ wet clothes!”

The Sheikah wasted neither time nor breath doing as the patrolman instructed. In moments, a small fire flickered to life. Brigo, meanwhile, had stripped off Link’s sodden garments, wrapped him in both cloaks and rolled him as close to the fire as he dared. Now he was rubbing his friend’s chest, stomach and legs while talking furiously the entire time.

“Had to go swimmin’ on a bloody ice mountain, didn’ yeh?” the patrolman accused the barely conscious Hylian. “Could no have taken a dip in Hateno, could yeh? I do no care what Dorian’s books say nor the Sheikah child, yer a ruddy fool wi’ cucco’s feathers fer brains!”

Slowly, Link began to feel patches of severe heat on the parts of his body closest to the fire, while painful cold stabbed at the rest of him. His jaw was chittering almost too badly for him to ask his first question.

“W-w-w-where...d-d-d-d-dragon?” Link gasped.

“Yeh _have_ gone barmy!” Brigo snorted while continuing to rub his friend’s limbs to life. “There ain’t so much as a mountain lizard up here, let alone a ruddy dragon!”

“You saw a dragon, Sir Link?” Dorian asked excitedly even as he continued to add fuel to the fire. His enthusiasm was severely blunted by the patrolman’s scowl of disapproval.

“We’ll have none o’ this now!” Brigo snarled. “Save yer strength, yeh young fool, an’ let the fire do its work.”

It took some time for Link’s body to fully cast off the numbing cold. Each part of him that stirred to life did so only to feel throbbing agony. He continued to shiver, partly from the intense chill, partly from the pain. The sight of his friends ebbed and faded to images of Zelda and the four Champions, then back again.

Occasionally, other scenes flashed across Link’s mind. He glimpsed the large Goron looking worriedly to the top of a mountain of fire. He saw the Rito warrior flying away in the midday sky while looking down on him, his calling voice full of scorn. Then it was night, and the Gerudo chieftain was glancing at him over her shoulder, her expression one of sad understanding. Sunset appeared, and he was somewhere high in the mountains, seated next to the Zora girl -- Mipha -- and her eyes were filled with a love he desperately wanted to return.

Finally, Link found himself in a forest plunged into darkness by the storm surging above them. He was running, his gait slowed only by the girl he was pulling behind him. A Guardian appeared, and its gleaming red eye flashed towards Zelda.

“ _No!_ ”

The Guardian used four of its serpentine metal arms to pin him to the ground. It was going to rip him apart, leaving Zelda all but defenseless.

“ _No!”_

“I do no care what yeh say, lad, we’re not lettin’ go ‘til yeh calm down a touch!”

Link’s eyes flared open. It was not a machine’s metal arms that held him, but those of Brigo and Dorian. The sight of them in place of the horror he had been witnessing left his cloak-wrapped body limp and shaking. Sweat poured over his face, mingling with the tears still leaking from his eyes.

Dorian put a hand to Link’s forehead and nodded with satisfaction. “The fever is broken,” the Sheikah sighed with relief. “He will live.”

Brigo snorted as he released Link and went to the cookpot hanging over a fire of smokeless embers. They were, Link saw, once again housed in the large tent. He quickly wiped the moisture from his eyes before propping himself up on one elbow.

“Where are we?” he asked weakly.

“Still at the ruddy spring where yeh tried to drown yerself,” Brigo quipped from across the fire. “Yeh kipped off after that. Been here all day. Night’s already come.”

With that, the patrolman scooped the contents of the pot into a small wooden bowl and brought it to Link. It was soup, and its aroma set his mouth watering. The moment the bowl was in his hands, Link began devouring the vegetables and broth at a ravenous pace, its heat searing the inside of his mouth in his haste.

His friends watched him eat in silence, each looking at Link with his own version of concern. Dorian’s narrow, brown eyes were full of worry, while Brigo’s face was parent-like in its sternness. It was he who spoke first after the Link’s spoon finally scraped the bowl in vain.

“You alright, lad?” Brigo asked while still dubiously surveying his friend. Link nodded wearily in reply.

“A little tired, but I am fine,” he said. Sitting up took a conscious effort, and he could tell the patrolman was about to reprimand him for it. Link put up a hand to forestall his friend. “I really am. Thank you, both of you, for what you have done.”

The tension in Brigo’s expression loosened considerably. “‘Bout ruddy time I paid yeh back for the bridge,” he barked good-naturedly. Link smiled at the memory of their first meeting. Dorian, however, could no longer hold back the questions that had been kept waiting until now.

“You said you saw a dragon, Sir Link?” he burst out. “What did it look like? Did it speak to you? Did it force you into the spring?”

Brigo tried to cut off the Sheikah’s flood of questions, but Link waved his concerns aside. “It is all right, Brig,” he insisted. “The least I can do is tell you why you found me as you did.”

And so Link told them everything. He told them of hearing Zelda’s voice, of Naydra the dragon, and the memory of Zelda and the Champions.  It felt good to do that, to open himself to those whom he trusted without reservation. They were his friends, more so now than ever after saving his life. This was also the first time Link had been able to reflect on the treasure that was this recovered recollection.

He did keep certain details to himself, such as his feelings for the Zora. _Mipha_ , Link reminded himself. Once again, his heart ached at the remembrance, even more now that he could call her image to mind. He was frustrated to realize, however, that this memory had not sparked further recollections. What had they been to each other, once, for him to feel so strongly about her? Must he find more pieces to the puzzle of his life before seeing it whole and complete once more?

The embers burned low into the night when Link finished. Dorian sat cross-legged, leaning forward with an expression of absolute awe. Brigo had pulled out his pipe and was puffing thoughtfully while absorbing his friend’s tale.

“Fascinating,” the Sheikah finally murmured. “To actually remember the day the Calamity appeared… you say you remember nothing of confronting it?”

Link shook his head in reply, but kept his silence. The memory was invaluable, but it was also frustratingly finite. It began and ended as abruptly as a book. Remembering its ending, however, reminded him of his own question.

“How did you get past the barrier?” Link asked suddenly. “I could not have been gone long.”

Brigo looked up over his pipe bowl before swinging it to the side of his mouth. “I’ll say yeh weren’t,” he said while shaking his head in amazement. “Yeh’d not been gone moments before the ruddy thing disappeared. We weren’t sure at first, but finally we buckled down an’ went to find yeh. Bloody good thing we did, too.”

Link could only nod in agreement. The motion caused a sudden wave of exhaustion to come over him, and Brigo was at his side in an instant.

“Right, time to kip off fer good, lad,” he said firmly while forcing Link to lie down. “Yer fever’s broke, so yeh should sleep like a baby Rito in its nest for the rest o’ the night.”

 _Rito,_ Link thought drowsily. An image of a feathered face with fierce green eyes wavered in his mind’s eye. _Why did the Rito dislike me?_

The effort behind the question robbed Link of the last of his senses.

 

* * *

 

Sunlight already flooded into the tent when Link awoke the following morning. Sitting up was a pleasant surprise, a reminder of strength regained. And appetite. Luckily Brigo was on hand and waiting with a breakfast of fried eggs and bread.

“Eat slowly, lad,” the patrolman encouraged him. “We’ve a mountain to climb down an’ yeh’ll be no good doin’ it with a great achin’ belly.”

Dorian had begun breaking camp the moment Link had awakened. It was well past daybreak. The sun was already halfway to Mount Lanayru’s summit. The Sheikah brought over Link’s clothes, which were wrinkled, but dry.

“Thank you, my friend,” Link said warmly. “Come then, I’m no longer the invalid you found yesterday.”

Link’s heart was light as he helped his friends finish preparing to leave. Though his newly found memory was bittersweet, it filled him far more than any meal or counsel he had received since awakening on the Great Plateau. It also left him with questions. He waited, however, until they began their descent down the western face of Mount Lanayru. A broad, snow-covered trail -- undoubtedly the main path taken by visitors long ago -- snaked gently down the mountain.

“Dorian,” Link began as they set out, “what do you know of the other Champions?”

As he had expected, the Sheikah’s face lit up with enthusiasm. The path was wide enough for the two to walk side-by-side while Brigo led the way, using his spear to confirm their steps beneath the snow.

“Five Champions were chosen to aid the princess in the battle against Ganon,” Dorian began, as though citing a children’s primer. “Goron vigilance: Daruk. Rito confidence: Revali. Gerudo spirit: Urbosa. Zora grace: Mipha. And, of course, Hylian duty: Link.”

Brigo’s snort of derision was audible from ahead. “An’ here I thought yeh were the humble sort!” he called over his shoulder.

“I blame your influence!” Link called back in good humor before turning his attention back to the Sheikah. “What do you know about them? What were they like?”

“Daruk was the strongest Goron of his age,” Dorian continued eagerly. “They say his sword was as large as a moblin and could slay three of them with a single blow. The only thing that feared him more than Ganonspawn, it was said, was his supper.”

Link laughed out loud at this. What was it Rhoam had said on the plateau? _“You used to eat enough to impress even the Gorons, which is no mean feat.”_ Recalling Daruk’s girth, he thought Rhoam might have exaggerated.

“What of Revali?” Link asked suddenly. He was curious why the Rito had seemed markedly colder toward him than the others.

“Revali was the bravest Rito to soar the skies, and that is saying something,” Dorian said thoughtfully as the path took another turn. “It is written his valor bordered on foolishness, but that he always came out of battle victorious. His skill with a bow was unrivaled -- until you matched him, Sir Link.”

Link frowned as the path twisted yet again. Rhoam had also alluded to the Rito’s fierceness and sense of friendship being an earned commodity. He doubted equaling their Champion had earned him anything but resentment from such a proud warrior.

The trio was nearly halfway down the mountain, now. A fresh blanket of white powder covered the ground and trees of Naydra Snowfield below. Sunshine crept upon their backs as its source climbed ever higher above Mount Lanayru behind them.

“Lady Urbosa was the chief of her people,” Dorian continued. “Though all Gerudo are warriors, she was considered their most skilled fighter -- not only with a sword, but with sorcery as well.”

“Sorcery?” Link asked, surprised. His memory had not alluded to this at all.

“Aye, sorcery!” Brigo called back once again. “I hear those Gerudo women can charm a Hylian with their walk an’ a mere glance  o’ their jade green eyes!”

Link rolled his own eyes at this, but Dorian nodded agreeably. “What Master Brigo says is true, Sir Link. When they seek a man to take as their husband, they waste neither time nor charms in doing so. That is not what I meant with Lady Urbosa, however. It is written she could summon the heavenly wrath of Hylia herself.”

“I’d imagine the wrath of a Gerudo woman scorned would feel that way,” Link joked, but he was sincerely wondering what kind of power Urbosa must have wielded to forge such a reputation among the Sheikah texts. That left one more…

“And what of the Zora Champion?” Link asked as casually as he could.

“Lady Mipha,” Dorian answered readily as they passed through Lanayru’s lower foothills. “She was the daughter of King Dorephan and heir to the throne. It is written her healing magic was a gift of Hylia herself, meant to accompany the kindness already in her heart. That and her skill with a Zora trident made her among the most respected and loved of her kind.”

Link’s insides throbbed with bittersweet pain. Everything Dorian had said resonated with what little he now remembered. He had half-forgotten, however, that Mipha was also a princess in her own right. That made two kings the Calamity had made grieving fathers.

They were, Link saw, now passing through the frozen thickets of the snowfield. The journey down the mountain path had been far quicker than their climb up its less forgiving southern slopes the day before. The road ran straight as an arrow to the west. He could just make out the same archway he had seen in his memory.

“Do you...,” Link began carefully. He was not sure how to ask the question without arousing unwanted questions in return. “Do you know anything about my dealings with them? What we were like together, I mean?”

The Sheikah frowned thoughtfully. “There is nothing so personal in the Sheikah writings I have read, Sir Link,” he admitted. “Truth be told, I was hoping you might know more on that subject. It would be terribly fascinating to know what the Champions were like as companions.”

“The memory didn’t reveal too much of that,” Link admitted. The snow was thinning, the gate to the path through the Promenade now clearly in their sights under the midday sun. “I’m hopeful that soon I will be able to —“

Brigo shouted from up ahead, but not before something slammed into Link’s side with the force of a battering ram. It sent him flying into a nearby tree, the impact knocking the breath from his body.

His eyes watering, Link looked up and beheld a nightmare come to life. Its body was that of a horse striped white and purple. Its torso, however, was a man’s, complete with thick, muscular arms. One of its clawed hands carried an enormous iron club, the other an over-large shield adorned with a half-moon blade on each side. Over its back was slung a thick bow also made of iron, with a quiver of arrows hanging from a chain link belt around its waist.

It was the thing’s head that was most unnatural. Framed my a mane of white hair, its slit eyes and fanged jaws were that of a beast. Two curved horns rose from its forehead. With a roar that made a bear’s seem a whimper, the monster charged toward Link.

Dorian’s balaclava was already drawn over his mouth and nose, his small Sheikah bow unslung and strung with an arrow nocked. His arrow flew straight and true to the beast’s head — and was met with a careless flick of the shield.

The Sheikah dove out of the way, but the creature continued charging toward Link. Gulping in what air he could, he also dove sideways. Seamlessly, he rolled onto his feet, unshouldered his bow and loosed an arrow in one fluid motion. It sank into the beast’s hindquarters, causing it to roar in rage. Reaching backward, it pulled out the shaft and snapped it as though it were a twig before galloping madly into the surrounding woods.

“Find cover!” Dorian bellowed.

Before Link could act on his friend’s words, a streak of yellow light shot from within the trees and slammed into his left shoulder. Pain stabbed through him, but not that of a normal wound. Instead of throbbing, it lanced his body again and again, leaving him convulsing on the ground. Dorian immediately seized Link by his sword belt and hauled him behind a large tree.

Still quivering uncontrollably, Link looked down and saw an arrow shaft sticking out of the side of his shoulder. Its head was enormous and unlike anything he could remember seeing: a twin set of prongs crafted to resemble lightning. Even as he beheld it, a small flash of yellow flared from the head and injected another shock of pain through his body. Gritting his teeth, Link grabbed the arrow with his right hand and ripped it out of his arm.

With the trained quickness of his people. Dorian turned from behind the tree and loosed an arrow into the woods. A roar of unbridled savagery erupted from them, and Dorian immediately began dragging Link behind a nearby boulder.

“Hylia help us this day,” he muttered through his balaclava. Link barely registered the Sheikah’s words; he was trying to get to his feet, but his body did not want to function properly even after removing the arrow.

“W-w-what is it?” Link stammered through the pain and tremors. Even as he did, they heard Brigo yell some obscenity from his own hiding place further up the road.

“The Hebran is smart,” Dorian said grimly. “He distracts it while we move. It is a lynel, Master Link. We cannot kill it, not just we three armed as we are. Not even that many, now, for you were hit by a shock arrow.”

Another roar, then a sudden bloom of orange light. Heat seared toward them. Dorian threw Link behind the boulder and dove right behind him just as a stream of pure fire streaked past where they had been. A bestial scream of rage followed, then Link heard hooves pounding furiously toward them.

“No yeh don’t, yeh devil’s excuse fer a mule!” the patrolman roared from ahead. “Come at meh!”

Link looked over and saw Brigo standing in the open, his bow drawn. Before he could loose it, another streak of yellow flew from the lynel’s own bow and into the patrolman’s leg, causing him to fall and cry out in pain.

“No!” Link yelled. Try as he might, however, his legs refused to cooperate. Suddenly, the air again turned orange, and and a blast of heat slammed into the other side of the boulder. The stone began to smoke; the trees and mulch around them were catching fire. Link and Dorian coughed in the haze, their eyes watering uncontrollably. Whatever sorcery the beast was using would either incinerate them or force them into the open.

Suddenly the Sheikah began fumbling at Link’s waist. It took Link but an instant to realize his friend was reaching for the slate.

“What are you doing!” Link gasped.

“You must — get to Kakariko,” Dorian replied between painful coughs. His touch had activated the map. Link fought to slap away the Sheikah’s hands, but his limbs did not obey.

“No!” Link cried, but his voice was lost amid the fire’s roar. Its heat was intensifying. The lynel was approaching even as it kept up its stream of magical flame. “I won’t — leave you!”

Dorian ignored him. He seized Link’s right hand, gripped it tightly so its random shakings could not stop him from moving it toward the slate. Link’s mind screamed to resist. His arm might as well have belonged to someone else.

“Save Hyrule, Sir Link!” Dorian choked out. Because he was not directly against the boulder as Link was, the fire was burning him openly. Blisters and boils bubbled to life on the Sheikah’s face, distorting his comely and youthful visage. “Save Hyrule!”

Dorian pressed Link’s index finger to a tiny blue diamond on the slate, and the world dissolved in blue light. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When Link first met Impa (Book One, Chapter: Impa), she emphasized how vital it was that he regain a knowledge of himself before confronting Ganon. This chapter is the first step of him realizing the value of that knowledge, and I hope I conveyed how it's already starting to affect him for the better.
> 
> This chapter and the previous were the first true glimpses of the Link-Mipha relationship. If some of you have experience or enjoy writing romance, kudos. I have zero experience and, though I'm married, I'm not ready to proclaim myself a love expert. That being said, I enjoy how this dynamic played out for me (again, I've finished Book Two already), but that may not necessarily mean you will. I hope you will, especially as more details of their connection come to light.
> 
> Truly endangering and even killing significant characters is a huge risk. There's a reason the Marvel universe creates so many outs for itself in this regard. At the end of the day, it's hard for me to respect and even fear the antagonist if he's not truly dangerous, and that danger can only be conveyed by a sense of actual loss. Unfortunately, Brigo and Dorian fit the bill.
> 
> For those of you who played BOTW, you'll never forget nearly s****ing yourself the first time you accidentally stumbled across a lynel. I felt completely unprepared and got wasted in a matter of seconds. Yes, Link is the Hylian Champion returned, but the lynel is supposed to be the most formidable non-boss enemy in the game/story. With Link & Co. being caught unawares, I wanted that point driven home hard. I hope I succeeded.
> 
> I can't tell you how much I've enjoyed getting this far and how grateful I am for your time in reading. If you have your own input, questions, whatever, don't hesitate to shoot them my way via review. Hope life is treating you well! -- MattWords


	10. A Flock Divided

The afternoon sun cast golden ripples across Lake Totori and the great stone basin in which it lay. A half dozen adult Rito dove hopefully, then wheeled away in disappointment upon finding the water disturbed only by wind. Totori was emptier than any of the bird-like creatures could remember, a fact that would be driven home by their crying eggchicks later that night.

With heavy hearts and empty beaks, the Rito used their powerful wings to ascend from the lake's surface to their home at its center. The fires from a fortnight previous were long doused, the wooden stairs and platforms repaired, but a somber pall still hung over the ancestral roost. The normally hail and hearty greetings for those returning from the hunt were absent. Uneasy silence had replaced the melodic birdsong with which nest makers normally soothed their young to sleep. Whimpers for more food were shushed quickly, lest they be heard by fathers already weighed down by their lack of success.

One such effort did not escape Teba's sharp hearing. The snow-white Rito cocked his head toward the sound of his approaching mate, who was only just now returned from assuaging their lone son's innocent complaints. On any normal night, Teba would lift his gaze to warmly greet the one he considered the most beautiful of all the Rito. Hylia had graced Saki with lavender plumage and sky-blue eyes that put luminous stones to shame. Even her beak was a soft and small counter to the harshness of Teba's hawk-like visage, albeit one in which she took equal pride. It had surprised no one when the already accomplished Rito captain had asked for the graceful maiden's wing in marriage.

Their celebrated union had produced an eggchick, a fine son who was already taking after Teba in almost every way. Tulin had inherited his father's white plumage and inborn eagerness for action. Saki adored the first trait even as she not so quietly endured the second.

 _She need not worry about that now_ , Teba thought firmly to himself.  _I go to protect him from such darkness. Can she not see that?_

The Rito warrior was already steeling himself for the argument to begin anew. He was somewhat surprised to merely feel his mate's warm, comforting touch on his shoulder.

"He asked for you," Saki gently informed him.

"You told him I was busy." It was not so much a question as a spoken expectation. He felt Saki's feathers go unusually still as she replied.

"I did," she said coolly. "Still, I don't think he would object to his father going back on his word for this."

And there it was. In their own way, females treated conversation as their own battlefield. How deftly they turned a perceived high ground upside-down and made their enemies flounder. It was worse, even, for such cold-hearted tactics should be saved for those who merited them rather than the ones they loved most. The timely injustice made Teba's blood boil, and he turned to face his wife at his full and considerable height.

"You think my son would esteem me more for hiding from that which threatens us all?" he demanded hotly, his rage only just restrained. "You think he would rather see more coward than courage from me now?"

And again, as women so often did, Saki illogically retreated just as she had gained the upper hand. Her softness in the face of Teba's sharp-edged words nearly disarmed him. Nearly.

"I think  _our_  son would esteem you for the obedience you could teach him," Saki murmured as she caressed her husband's battle-scarred cheek. "There is honor in following those whom we have vowed to obey, more so when their orders are hard to follow. It would be a great example for him, one only you could set before his eyes."

Teba caught her wife's feathers gently in his own, but the golden eyes under his heavy, black eyebrows were hardened with resolve.

"He sees the example I set for him now," Teba whispered harshly. "A Rito warrior forced to walk the length of our home and fish only the waters below it. A master of the sky mastered in turn by a piece of floating metal with neither soul nor heart nor mercy. I will not allow that example persist, not while there is breath in my breast to change it."

"You are using our son to justify your own impatience!" Saki cried, all pretense of gentle persuasion now gone. "Do not confuse Tulin's desires with your own, Teba! We are all subject to this trial, but only you lack the patience to endure it!"

"That is not true."

Astonished to hear the very words he had been about to utter spoken by another, Teba turned to see an enormous, owl-like Rito standing respectfully outside his conically shaped dwelling. He sensed more than heard Sika fold her feathers and make the slight bow that was ritual to all her people in the Elder's presence.

"Elder Kaneli!" she breathed ashamedly. "I am sorry our argument disturbed you! That is unless… did you… did you wish to say something?"

The Rito leader waddled his way into the couple's home, somehow avoiding delicately perched wares and ornaments alike despite his great girth. Kaneli then took each Rito in with his kindly gaze before first acknowledging Sika with a small bow of his own.

"Thank you for welcoming me into your nest, Sika," the elder said warmly. "And thank you, Teba, for welcoming me with such honesty."

"Honesty?" Teba asked, nonplussed.

"Oh yes," Kaneli returned sincerely. "You did not waste your time or mine with a bow of respect, which means you are well and truly set on your endeavor of disobedience. I admire honesty above all else, and you certainly have it in spades for me."

"You're… you're welcome," Teba acknowledged awkwardly. "So you've… accepted my plan?"

"No, I'm afraid I am not," Kaneli answered as his aged face became grave. "I applaud honesty, it is true, especially when it unearths disagreement. Disagreement is one of the healthiest symptoms of any people. I would be truly worried if everyone agreed with me all the time, something of which you have never been guilty. You are a great warrior and leader in your own right, Teba. I value your disagreements a great deal."

"And yet you…  _disagree_  with me on this," Teba concluded warily.

"Of course I do," Kaneli confirmed earnestly. "It took you less time to disregard my council than it does that son of yours to down a mouthful of trout. For such a heavy decision - rife with consequence, I might add - to be made so quickly is extremely troubling. Rarely do rushed decisions wind up being good ones. I have a long life to thank for having witnessed so many examples of them."

"There are times when right and wrong need no more than a blink of an eye to be decided," Teba challenged. "That was enough time for me to see our people starving and land-bound. Surely you do not think our people are better off?"

"Your argument has all the consistency of a Hyrule bass," Kaneli replied with a sad shake of his head, "cutting swiftly through the current one moment, then leaping out of the water and ending up somewhere else entirely. Of course our people are not better off, but you have already decided the only course is to go against my wishes with a score's worth of warriors behind you."

"What madness is this?" Saki interrupted, looking from husband to elder frantically. "Who would fly with Teba against a Divine Beast?"

Kaneli's level answer cut off the scathing words that nearly flew from Teba's tongue.

"Those who share your husband's frustrations," the elder said with a bow of acknowledgment. "It is for this reason I refuted your heated accusation that Teba alone is impatient to see these dark days done and over. He has recruited - quite successfully, I might add - the strength of several younger warriors to his cause."

"What did you promise them?" Saki demanded accusingly. "More warrior beads for their braids? Perhaps to be known as 'Teba's Company?'"

"I promised them an end to the winged curse that flies over us even now!" Teba answered with a wing upraised and stabbing skyward for emphasis. "Unlike you, they wish to be real Rito once more instead of cowering worms that hope the chickaloo is done feeding its young for the day!"

"And therein lies the flaw within your great plan," Kaneli said sadly. "You are so foreign to being the worm that you cannot give place to the thought that we might as well be worms as far as Vah Medoh is concerned."

"You question our bravery?" Teba nearly screeched in rage. "The warriors who will fly alongside me are young and strong! They are not afraid to brave Vah Medoh's wrath! They-"

"-are very brave and will likely die very quickly," Kaneli concluded smoothly. "I have told you - I have told everyone - that the only ones capable of boarding Vah Medoh and appeasing her are those who bore a Sheikah Slate. As you know, the Champions of old are a hundred years dead. Unless you bear some relation to Revali of which I am not aware - and his Sheikah slate has also somehow survived - you have no means of winning this battle. The only death you will accomplish is your own, and now, perhaps those who fly with you. Can you look into Maddie's eyes and tell her that Harth died at your side and against my counsel? It will be your news to bear, Teba, not mine."

Trapped by his own commitment and Kaneli's firm yet gentle words, Teba floundered.

"You would have us merely wait and hope?" he asked in a strangled voice. "For what? A miracle? For Vah Medoh to grow bored and fly elsewhere?"

"To exhaust less dangerous options," Kaneli answered soothingly. "We can reach other fishing grounds by walking first. Strock Lake, perhaps. We can also trade with the stablemen."

"I will not let the Hylians take advantage of our plight!" Teba snarled. "They gouge prices because they are truly flightless worms to Medoh's eyes. The Divine Beast does not trouble them, so they see no trouble in turning a profit at our expense. They can go to Ganon for all I care!"

"I believe in Hylia's power for good more than Ganon's for evil, and I believe the former will see their greed returned to them ten-fold," Kaneli agreed. "Either option is better than leading young warriors to near-certain death, don't you think?"

Kaneli had taken an appeasing step forward, a movement punctuated by the clack of his claws upon the wooden floor. Teba had grown to hate that sound of late. His people, kings and queens of the sky, forced to walk with wings folded out of fear. He turned to face Kaneli, the wisest of the Rito, the one for whom Teba had always reigned in his flash-fire temper. Now he saw only the face of his people's fear, content to remain grounded as long as a Sheikah-built machine let them do so and live. He would not allow Vah Medoh to define these days, not while Hylia granted him life to do otherwise.

"No, Kaneli," Teba knelled. "Our people will not suffer on Vah Medoh's terms. It will meet ours, and we will issue them in the air as Rito are born to do."

Sika wept silently as Kaneli placed his enormous wing on Teba's shoulder.

"Then Hylia fly with you and yours, Teba," the elder pronounced sadly, "for none of us will."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As the books progress, the other Champions/characters establish themselves and their stories more and more. Book Three will see an especially big shift in switching characters/viewpoints more often, but for now there's still a lot of spaced-out table-setting to be done.
> 
> Teba's disposition is pretty easy to discern in the game, where Link first meets him already prepared to attack Medoh against his wife and elder's wishes. This chapter provides a glimpse into what got Teba to that point, and I enjoyed mapping it out and writing it down. Sure, he wants to take Medoh down, but I felt even he would have briefly struggled to brush off the two most important adults in his life. That being said, I couldn't get over how raw of a deal the Rito got with their Divine Beast. It's literally hovering above their homeland and preventing them from doing what they were born to do (fly). For as free a spirit as Teba is, I could only conclude he would go mad with rage.
> 
> One of the fun twists in this series is how absolutely different females are portrayed among every race. Gerudo are stone-cold warriors. Zora women are as equally capable and willing to fight as men. Hylian women that travel/trade are still pictured as armed and capable. The Gorons have no women. I don't doubt that a Rito "nest maker" could peck a threat's eyes out, yet they were designed to appear as the least combat-ready characters in the game. Conscious or unconscious, that happened for a reason, and again, it provides a different dynamic in a Hyrule full of them.
> 
> Teba's confrontation with Medoh will test him and his people. I'm eager to see it unfold.
> 
> Thanks for your precious time in reading this. As always, feel to drop a bookmark or comment, even if it's just to talk about what you like/think/dislike. Hope life is treating you well. - MattWords


	11. The Watching

Link's eyes opened to muted sunlight sifting through white shades drawn over small windows. They were the only interruptions of the wooden walls forming the clean and orderly hut in which he lay. A table laden with food stood up against the wall opposite the door, into which was etched the symbol of an eye with three triangular lashes and a single teardrop. Against the wall opposite of Link's pallet, cross-legged atop a single pillow, sat Impa.

Link bolted upright, memory's sharp return shattering his calm surroundings.

"Where are Brigo and Dorian?" he shouted. He tried to stand up, but immediately fell on the first attempt. He was as weak now as he had been after the Spring of Wisdom.

A single eyebrow arched upwards beneath Impa's large straw hat, from which dangled small metal chains and half-moon hooks.

"They have not arrived," the Sheikah elder said quietly. "Were they with you when you used the slate to travel here?"

Link succeeded in standing up on his second try, only to realize he had been completely naked beneath his pallet. Impa nodded toward a chair in the corner of the hut.

"Your clothes are there, if you wish to have them," she said calmly, "but I think it would be wise to tell me what has happened."

"There's no time!" Link shouted angrily while stumbling to the small pile of clothes on the seat of the chair. Somehow, his urgently working mind found time to wonder at the old woman's complete apathy toward his nakedness. "That thing was attacking them! I must help them!"

"What thing?" Impa asked sharply, so sharply in fact that Link looked up from clumsily pulling his trousers over his undergarments.

"Dorian said it was a lynel," Link answered hurriedly. "If they managed to get away, they might still be on their way here."

"A lynel," Impa breathed, her normally calculating eyes widening ever so slightly.

"Yes!" Link confirmed in a loud, albeit muffled voice as he pulled his tunic over his head. "Where's Cado? Tell him to bring as many as will come! I know where we were. If we set out quickly enough, we may even —"

"You arrived yesterday, Link," Impa interrupted quietly. "You are awake for the first time in over a day."

Link stopped buckling the leather greaves onto his wrists. A day. An entire day.

"They--," he swallowed hard. "They have not returned?"

Impa shook her head slowly. "No. And if it was truly a lynel that attacked you, I doubt they will. I assume, then, you did not leave them of your own volition?"

Link was numb, the words coming out of him flat and lifeless. "Dorian made me use the slate. I couldn't move. The lynel...a shock arrow… I couldn't…"

"Yes, we surmised you had been hit by a shock arrow," Impa interceded smoothly. "Your symptoms indicated as much. I am sorry for the loss of Dorian. He was a good young man. May Hylia's embrace welcome him home."

Link looked up, anger burning away the tears that had threatened to overtake him.

"You assume he is dead, then?" he demanded. "You would move on from one of your own as quickly as that?"

"Have a care, boy. Your heroics at Hateno do not grant you license to address Lady Impa so."

Link had not seen Cado leaning against the darkest corner of the hut. He had revealed himself now, and the expression below his white top knot was one of stern disapproval. Link saw, however, that he was not armed.

"Enough," Impa interrupted, though her wrinkled eyes remained on Link. "His ways are not ours, Cado, and that includes how he grieves. But yes, Link, I do believe both Dorian and Brigo met their doom at the hands of a lynel. None have been seen since the Calamity, and few survived encounters with them even then. Could you remember for yourself, you would know I speak the truth."

Link did not know what to say. Fury at her acceptance of his friends' death choked his words away, made bile rise in his throat. It felt like mere minutes since they had laughed together on the mountain. He sat down on the chair, unspoken emotion rendering him silent.

"Was the lynel carrying much metal?" Impa asked suddenly.

Link frowned at unusual nature of the question, then thought back to what he had seen. "Yes," he said slowly. "A club. A shield. Even its bow. Why?"

The elderly woman nodded in satisfaction. "Left to its own devices, a lynel will rampage with only its crude magic and brute force. Its services can be bribed, however, with gifts of fantastic weapons forged by men. It seems this one was bought specifically to kill you. Or perhaps capture, if it was using shock arrows. Those would have left you helpless, an easy prize to deliver to whatever hired it."

"Ganon," Link said numbly. "It's always him. Everything goes back to him."

"The Demon King is indeed to source of this evil, but he remains contained within Hyrule Castle," Impa corrected him. "It behooves us to know who or what recruited a lynel on Ganon's behalf. It would seem they knew where you would be, which is interesting in and of itself."

Then Link remembered their journey up the mountain. "Someone did," he said slowly. "Two men we met at the village. They followed us halfway up the mountain. Dorian thought they were Yiga—"

"Yiga?" Cado cut in sharply. "Are you sure? Why did he think that? What did they look like?"

Link told them, recalling everything he could of his encounters with Garill and Joute at Hateno down to their oddly shaped eyes. When he finished, Cado looked furious, while Impa appeared merely pensive.

"You should have returned on the main road," Cado began with tightly contained anger. "If Dorian suspected, he should have known—"

"Dorian knew a more important task needed to be done," Impa said with no small amount of reprimand in her voice. Recalling the Sheikah's propensity for propriety, Link thought he could understand why. "It is enough that we know the Yiga are actively serving Ganon's ends once again, though it cost us two lives to learn as much. We must be cautious. Now then…"

Impa was looking hard at Link, he brown eyes narrowed to slits.

"You said you journeyed to Mount Lanayru," she said intently. "What did you see at the spring?"

For an instant, Link considered not answering. Impa's callous mention of his friends reignited his rage at what had happened and at her. Her question, however, reminded him of the promised answers that were now sitting in front of him.

Haltingly, Link once again related what he had seen at the Spring of Wisdom. As he had with his friends, he left out the emotional details, telling only what he saw rather than felt. Impa's wise gaze seemed to know he was holding back, but he did not care. The time had come for her to lay her own secrets bare for a change.

Link thought the object of her interest was his recovered memory, but she appeared far more intrigued with his encounter at the spring itself.

"So, Naydra allowed itself to be seen," Impa said thoughtfully while tapping a robe-covered knee with a bony finger. "That has not happened in over ten thousand years. A good sign. And you say Zelda herself spoke to you? Some time still remains on our ledger, then."

The Sheikah elder stirred herself from her reverie and brought her attention back to Link, who was still seated, torn between grief and anger.

"I promised you answers upon your return, Link, and I will hold myself to that promise," Impa said gently. "Your grief - and that of the village - must be addressed first, however."

Link looked up, startled at Impa's unusual note of understanding. She smiled encouragingly in response.

"We are not so callous that we do not feel the loss of one of our own, however noble or necessary their passing," Impa continued while slowly rising from her cushion and getting to her feet. "We will hold a Watching for Dorian - and Brigo - at sunset. That will give me enough time to notify his parents. No doubt they will want to hear for themselves how he died. If you wish it, I will tell them myself so as to leave you with your thoughts."

Link's breath caught. Though Dorian's youth had been obvious, Link had never thought of him having parents who still lived in Kakariko, parents who no doubt worried for him the moment he set out with their legendary "hero." Link had mourned the passing of the fallen at Hateno, but this was a hot razor's knife compared to the dull ache felt for those he had hardly known.

"If… if they wish to speak to me, I will not turn them away," Link forced himself to say. Answering to the grieving parents of a friend would be worse - far worse - than facing any number of Ganonspawn. It was also the very least he owed them for a debt he could never fully repay.

To his relief, Impa treated his reply as nothing more than usual discourse.

"Very well," she said briskly. "I have asked Paya to attend you in the meantime. I am sure you are hungry. Eat and be well, Link."

Link did not look up as Impa and Cado exited through the sliding Sheikah door. He did not want them to see the hot tears now silently coursing down his face.

 

* * *

 

Paya tried to keep her hands from trembling as she carried the pitcher of fresh springwater. The late afternoon sun glinted off its unusually turbulent surface, betraying her nervousness as she approached the hut on the outskirts of Kakariko.

At first glance, the young woman was merely one of several Sheikah out and about during the last significant portion of daylight. Like all other women of her people, Paya wore close-fitting pants and boots of cream. Her coat was of the same color, broken up by borders of red down its edges and along the sleeves that billowed over her arms before being cinched with red ribbons just below her elbows. The covering of the arms was necessary, as her dark blue Sheikah shirt was sleeveless. Its high neck, however, completed her standard appearance of serene modesty.

The one difference between Paya and other Sheikah women was her people's most significant trait. Nearly all Sheikah, male and female, wore their hair in an efficient bun at the top of their head, its placement secured by a pair of sticks cleverly placed just so.

Though Paya also sported a bun, she also left a large amount of her hair free to fall below her shoulders. She had always done so. The effect left her feeling more… like herself, never mind that the Sheikah's unspoken norms dictated otherwise. Grandmother's opinions, of course, hardly ever went unspoken.

"Perhaps your stubbornness will be rewarded," Impa had dryly noted more than once. "A trout among a school of bass is easily seen - and snared - by the fisherman."

Maybe Grandmother was right. She was already twenty-two years old, after all - half a decade older than most Sheikah women who married. She felt her age marked her as much as - perhaps more than - the red eye sigil painted on her forehead.

Paya had spent the afternoon hours alternating between brushing her hair and pacing the tiny bedroom loft in her grandmother's hut. She had lived there as long as she could remember, her parents having died when she was but a small child. That loft often became Paya's sanctuary when she fretted about something, and she had not left it since Grandmother had made a rare departure earlier that morning.

Part of her had been incredibly impatient for this moment to arrive. The sun had clearly decided to prolong its track across the sky, a course hemmed in on all sides of the village by the monolithic hills known as the Pillars of Levia, which cradled Kakariko in peaceful seclusion from the rest of Hyrule.

Another part of Paya, however, was now more frightened than at any other time in her young life. She had daydreamed of this moment for a fortnight. Now that it was here, the harsh reality of its arrival spawned pessimistic butterflies in the very pit of her stomach, each one bearing a nightmarish scenario of how the forthcoming encounter would unfold.

All too soon, only one curved roof remained ahead of her. A telltale wavering of light through the front door's small, opaque window sent Paya's heart leaping. He was there.

She had no right to think of Sir Link this way. He was the hero of legend reborn, destined to wage a terrible battle against an eternal foe. There was next to no hope of such a man making room in his heart for her.

That was what Paya's head insisted, anyway. Her heart kept stubbornly interrupting with the very vivid memory of their first meeting. When his beautiful eyes –  _bluer than the waters of Lake Siela_ , she thought to herself – had met hers, time itself seemed to stand still. There were few stories of romance among the Sheikah, but that moment strongly reminded her of them, right down to her weak knees and shortness of breath.

For an instant, Paya was sure some version of her own feelings had been mirrored in those gorgeous eyes. In the days since, her mind and heart had argued vehemently as to whether she had imagined it, and that debate had kept her awake into the dead of night more than once. One morning, the resulting fatigue had made Paya late delivering Grandmother's morning tea – an infraction hardly worth the withering scowl and two-hour lecture on punctuality it had earned her.

Paya hastily banished the unsightly frown from her face as she approached the sliding door. Hylia knew what Sir Link would think if her first impression was one of irritation, even if it was directed at Grandmother. Expression serene and water pitcher still, she gently knocked on the wooden frame of the door.

A slight delay. Then a voice – his voice – called from within.

"Who is it?"

"It… It is Paya, Sir Link," she stammered. Hylia help her, how could one man's voice wring her heart and scatter her brain so? "I bring fresh water, but I can return later if it pleases you." Just the thought of being turned away made Paya shrivel up inside.

"Paya…," she heard Link mutter softly, as though remembering the face behind the name. Then his voice carried a sudden ring of – could it be warmth? Surely not. "Please come in."

The invitation, which at the very least did not sound cold or forced, sent Paya's heart pounding at a pace surely all the world must hear. After a pause to ascertain she was at least outwardly composed, the young Sheikah woman regripped the pitcher in her right hand and slid the door open with her left.

Though she had anticipated and even daydreamed about this moment, Paya somehow managed to maintain the perfect decorum upon entering. She kept her eyes downcast, the only purpose of her visit being brief in nature. Knowing beforehand where the food-laden table would be, Paya quietly and efficiently crossed the room, deposited the pitcher and returned to the door before turning and - eyes still toward the floor - addressing the guest of her people.

"Is there anything else you require, Sir Link?" There. Her voice had been perfectly level. She could observe the proper protocols. She could.

A brief moment of silence followed.

"Am I dishonored among your people, then?"

Horrified at the words issued by that quietly strong voice, Paya finally looked up. Sir Link was seated upon the only wooden chair in the hut, his upper body bowed forward but face looking up at her. The blue eyes she remembered so well were tinged with red, his youthful visage smudged. He had been weeping.

As she had been since first seeing him, Paya was torn. Part of her wanted to rush to him in comfort, to encircle the shoulders that legend said had bourne burdens only he could bear. Part of her was aghast at even acknowledging that desire. Besides, there was no proof Sir Link even wanted such bold advances from a stranger or - and she nearly teared up at the thought - a mere Sheikah servant.

"Of… of course not, Sir Link," Paya stammered. She did not, however, return her eyes to the floor. He had asked her a question. Propriety would remain intact if she maintained direct eye contact.

Link looked at her a moment longer, a study she felt as much as saw. Field work under the midday sun felt lighter than his stare.

"Did you know him? Dorian?" he finally asked.

And suddenly, Paya understood. Though she had no friends among the Hylian stablemen or nearby villages, she knew enough about her own people to realize Link was not one of them. Even in the short interval between Sir Link's arrival and now, word of Dorian's death had passed quickly and matter-of-factly. The Sheikah did - and would - grieve, but it would be like everything else they did: measured and reserved.

Not like this. Not with emotions raw and heart exposed, openly seeking refuge from death's storm.

Paya did not remember crossing the room. Only now did she register that she was kneeling in front of Sir Link -  _Link_ , she said forcefully to herself - her soft, white hands gently taking his tanned and calloused ones.

"Dorian was a good man and a good friend," Paya said gently. "He would not regret giving his life alongside you. Neither would… neither would we."

She had almost said "neither would I." She might as well have. The unspoken words hummed through the silent cabin, encircling the pair in the emotion behind them. Link's eyes were no longer filled with grief.  _Would I know if it was love?_  Paya wondered.

The rays of twilight filtering through the drawn window shades played off Link's face, which was much closer to Paya's now. He was going to kiss her. A thousand thoughts and emotions raced through her, each more brief and frantic than the last. Did she dare allow it? Would Grandmother find out - and what would she say or do if she did? Was this really happening?

A horn, low but clear, pierced the still dusk air outside the hut - and the intimate moment within.

Paya half-stumbled from her knees, then quickly scrambled to her feet. Link also rose, but his eyes remained fixed on her, searching to confirm what had nearly transpired. Paya felt as though she had been startled awake from a dream, one that could not - should not - be real.

"The Watching is about to begin, Sir Link," Paya murmured while backing her way toward the door, her eyes once again downcast and tone respectful. "You will no doubt wish to attend."

His gaze remained fixed on her a moment longer. Paya could not decide if she wanted those eyes turned away or locked on her forever. Then he bowed, a perpendicular formality every bit as exact as a Sheikah.

"I thank you, Lady Paya," Link said formally, and the lack of warmth behind the words broke her heart. "May Hylia keep you until our next meeting."

Stifling a sob, Paya turned and dashed through the door.

 

* * *

 

Link remained standing, staring at the still-open Sheikah door through which Paya had fled. Even knowing as little as he did, he understood that door was a sign of how truly upset she was. There was a part of Link that wanted to race after her, to explain his abrupt farewell, to vow that things would be different when it was all over.

That part of him was shrinking rapidly beneath the reality that had stung him the instant the Sheikah horn had sounded. In the brief moment before that, Link had allowed himself to live in a world where only deep brown eyes, soft skin and the unspoken promise of love dwelled.

The horn had pricked that bubble and reminded Link such a world did not - could not - exist. Hyrule was still a land of death and mourning as long as Ganon remained unvanquished — a fact that would be driven home in just moments. How could he allow his own selfish love to bloom on the same night the flower of Dorian's life would officially close? That he had almost done so disgusted him. Knowing he had hurt Paya only increased Link's feeling of self-loathing.

No. Better that he dowse these feelings now. He could hardly afford to harbor hope for a normal life for himself, let alone share one with someone else. Dorian had died believing in him. Link would not let the same happen to Paya, even if it meant shutting her out completely.

Link found the resulting ache and confusion vaguely and oddly familiar, then dismissed the notion. He had already wasted too much time. Not knowing for certain but feeling it was the right thing to do, he donned his Hyrulean cloak and stowed Dorian's sheathed sword at his waist. The slightly curved blade was no longer just a weapon; it was a reminder of its former master - and the trust Dorian had placed in him. Feeling as though the sword was an anchor on his waist and his heart, Link quickly exited the hut and entered the depths of the village.

The last tendrils of dusk were long gone, courtesy of the surrounding hills cutting off the sun's retreat. The night's first stars were only just appearing, but even their full number would be diminished by the unusual number of torches now dotting Kakariko. Link realized he was one of the last among a scattered stream of people trickling toward the village center, which boasted the most concentrated pool of torchlight. Dozens of Sheikah were already waiting silently, their attention pointed toward the small rivulet opposite the raised hut where Impa dwelt.

Before arriving, Link had drawn up the hood of his cloak, assuming his presence would create some kind of stir. He was wrong. Unlike his brief time in Hateno, no one glanced at him sideways or, worse, pointed him out to a friend or family member. Then he realized that not one Sheikah was wearing the balaclava many - especially warriors - favored. With all their faces uncovered, Link recognized several men and women that had fought alongside the Hatenoans just days ago.

He maneuvered along the outer ring of those gathered, taking care not to disturb the relative anonymity with which he had arrived. Finally, Link found himself able to peer over the white-haired heads of two shorter Sheikah, allowing him an easy view of the proceedings.

Impa stood apart from her people, the only reason Link could pick out her diminutive figure. The Sheikah Elder was dressed as Link had always seen her, right down to the red-rimmed, chain-and-hook-adorned straw hat. Behind her rested a statue that Link immediately recognized, though on a much smaller scale than those he had seen on the Great Plateau or Mount Lanayru. This likeness of the Goddess Hylia, her peacefully smiling face framed by the shoulders of wings folded behind her robed body, was no taller than Impa herself.

To this statue Impa knelt. As one, the rest of the Sheikah also fell to their knees. Link did likewise, not out of blind faith as much as the desire to remain unnoticed.

Wondering what was to happen next, he was startled to hear Impa's voice carry more than well enough for all to hear.

"Great Hylia," the woman intoned, "blessed Goddess of our ancestors, creator of this world and defender of all that is good and right, we come to you this night in an hour of sorrow and need. We ask thee to take unto thyself the soul of Dorian, one of the Sheikah, a servant of the light of Hyrule."

Link heard the smallest sniff from one of the Sheikah standing in front of him. The other put a hand consolingly on the upset one's shoulder. From the back, it was impossible to tell whether either one of them was a man or woman.

"Dorian was a devoted servant," Impa continued, her quavery voice firm in volume and full in sincerity. "He fell alongside thy chosen hero in battle, laying down his life so Hyrule might rise from the shadow in which it slumbers. So, too, did Brigo of the Wetlands Stable, one who served your people well in life."

Both Sheikah in front of Link now held each other tightly in grief's embrace, but he did not notice. Tears, hot and fresh, had sprung from his own eyes, turning the surrounding torches into blurry orbs of wavering light.

"We are few, Hylia, but we remain dedicated to the work appointed us," Impa declared. "Even as we commission these men to thee, we renew our commitment to protect thy peoples and free this land. As Dorian died to make it so, so shall we live to do so. This night, we watch in honor of the fallen. On the morrow, we do in honor of the living."

Link's right hand gripped the hilt of Dorian's sword as tightly as possible, the white of his knuckles showing clearly through taut skin. Impa's words resonated inside his head and seared within his soul, a firebrand leaving behind a promise etched into his heart. He would mourn Dorian and Brigo tonight. Tomorrow, he would set out to avenge them.

A moment of complete silence followed Impa's words. The Sheikah elder then stood, briefly touched her heart, then the statue's head. After that personal exchange, she turned and walked slowly across the village clearing toward the stairs leading up to her hut. She did not stop to exchange pleasantries or even acknowledge her fellow Sheikah, all of whom respectfully gave way to her measured gait.

One by one, every Sheikah approached the statue and mimicked Impa's actions. Then, like their elder, they silently filed away into the night. The pair in front of Link were last. He was not sure why he was waiting. He did not know (nor was he sure he believed in) the ceremony. He only knew it would not be right to leave just yet.

Link was just beginning to wonder how he planned to offer his respects when the last two Sheikah, rather than continuing on toward their home like the others, stopped and faced him for the first time. He saw that they were a man and a woman, and an obvious couple at that.

Link did not recognize the man. It was the woman's face, now clearly visible in the torchlight, that sent his heart plummeting into the pit of his stomach. Feminine softness and very recent tears in her round, brown eyes were the only differences between Dorian's mother and the young man himself. When she spoke, it was with the mustered strength of bravely fighting back tears.

"Sir Link," the woman said tremulously, "I am Lasli, Dorian's mother. This is my husband and his father, Olkin. You are welcome here."

Link doubted any of the wounds he had suffered one hundred years ago - wounds that required him to sleep and heal for over a century - had cut quite like this. As it had with Lasli's son just days before, however, unthinking instinct came to his aid. Link removed his hood and bent to one knee, his hand gently holding hers to his forehead.

"May Hylia bless you, Lady Lasli. I thank you for welcoming me here."

The Sheikah woman gasped at the respect she had received, one usually reserved for her elder or from the suitor of her child. Half-forgotten memory, however, whispered to Link that the greeting's importance lay in its implied sense of assumed debt, a debt that could never be repaid, only gratefully accepted.

"You… you have no need to honor me so, Sir Link," Lasli stammered while her husband tried to subtly but hastily help Link to his feet. He seemed to be as shocked at Link's words as his wife. "If anything, I have shamed my son and my people with my show of emotion this day. I should honor Dorian's life rather than be ungrateful that he fought and - and died alongside you."

Olkin appeared as if he were about to speak - likely to assure his wife he had been just as guilty in grieving. Link, however, cut them both off with a kind but firm shake of his head. He spoke to both of them, but it was his friend's eyes in the mother's face that drew his full attention.

"If what you say is true, I have shamed you, your son and your people this day," Link insisted. "Dorian was a great warrior. It is because of him that Hateno still stands. It is because of him that I stand before you now. More importantly, he was a good man and friend and - and there is no shame in mourning his loss."

Link's voice had broken toward the end. He had not truly verbalized his grief until now. Impa had been too matter-of-fact. He might have done so to Paya were it not for their timely and ultimately necessary interruption. Only now could he truly give voice to the hurt within.

Then the tears came. Not the silent ones Link had wept during the Watching, but a flood of unrestrained emotion that wrenched his face. He fell to his knees as sobs racked his body, spasms of pain and loss and guilt that all at once seemed too much and not enough.

The noise would have no doubt drawn the attention of those within nearby huts had Lasli not immediately knelt and taken Link into her arms. There he buried his face, pouring his grief into the Sheikah mother's fierce embrace. Olkin joined her, both of them hugging him as tightly as humanly possible, each of them seeking and receiving strength from one another.

Link could not remember being held by anyone, let alone like this - like a child being comforted by his parents. Had his own father or mother ever comforted him this way? Would he ever remember if they had? The thought produced a fresh wave of sobs from the kneeling Hylian Champion.

The part of Link that wanted to do and think and be the right thing whispered he did not deserve this, that he had no right to accept solace from the mother of the friend who had died for him. The warmth of Lasli's arms and whispered words, combined with Olkin's strong grip on Link's shoulders, staved off that dark voice. It disappeared, unheard in the Kakariko night that enveloped three mourners grieving as one.

 

* * *

 

Through the window of her elevated hut, Impa watched the huddled mass of Link, Lasli and Olkin until they finally broke their joint embrace and went their separate ways. She thoughtfully tapped her wrinkled index finger on her prune-like mouth before hobbling slowly toward the back stairs leading up to the loft and her bed within.

Change did not frighten Impa. The histories said that once the Sheikah had been a tall race and wore their hair in tails that hung down their backs. The Gerudo were once thieves and plunderers before becoming the noble - if eccentric - people they were now.

It was one thing, however, to read about change as a dry history. It was quite another to witness it happening with her own eyes and among her own people. The boy was changing so much already. His return was a boulder thrown into the peacefully subdued pond Hyrule had become in his absence. How far and how high would the waves spread? And how many would be scattered about like rootless sand before them?

That rhetorical question coincided with the sight of her granddaughter asleep on the bed opposite her own. Impa had glimpsed Paya at the Watching, but she had remained well on the outskirts of her people - exactly opposite of where Link had arrived.

Impa frowned as she placed a small candle upon her bedside table. She knew Paya had attended to Link just before the Watching. Clearly their second meeting had not been as doe-eyed as the first. Impa knew that should be a relief, but for some reason it was not. More change. What had happened?

As for what Impa had just witnessed, Purah would have applauded it. Her sister had always been the emotional sort. The boys had seemed to like that when they were young, for some reason. Purah would say that Link's willingness to show weakness was a sign of strength.

Impa agreed - to an extent. The boy could not seal himself from the world as he had tried to do a century ago. He needed to feel. To touch. To live. Perhaps it was time for her own people to stray from the shadows of secrecy and do the same.

Link could not, however, allow the loss of one -  _or hundreds, when it comes to that_ , Impa grimly thought - to overshadow the needs of all. Thinking of that, she was both eager for and terrified of what would begin tomorrow. Link would finally set out on the quest to reclaim Hyrule - and himself.

"Blessed Hylia, let the former not be consumed by the latter," Impa whispered in the dark.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It feels cruel to rip away Link's friends so soon, but loss is one of the ways I most identify with and feel for my favorite characters in literature. There's a rawness there that makes him/her and the story feel real, something I desperately wanted to establish to make this feel as little like a video game as possible.
> 
> Such open humanity made for a pleasant contrast with the Sheikah, who I pictured as a formal people right from the start. Though it's a different Zelda game, I kept coming back to Impa's cutscenes in Skyward Sword. There was a distance with her that, to me, emphasized the gravity of her (and her people's) mission in guiding Hyrule's destiny. Yet even a distant people can feel, and Link's presence (and Dorian's departure) helped shed light on that. I didn't think of the scene with Link and Dorian's parents until very late, and I was pleased with 1) how it turned out and 2) how it captured the inevitable effect Link's return would have on Hyrule.
> 
> I labored over striking the right balance in Paya and Link's first drawn-out interaction. Each of them clearly hungers for the love their unique lives have denied them thus far. Will they find it in each other? Time will tell, but I'm encouraged by the emotions I felt while writing that scene. For what it's worth, my wife really liked this and demanded when we'd see more of Paya. I won't give the "when" away, but 1) you will and 2) she won't always be as a lovesick doe.
> 
> Stay with me over the next couple chapters. Wrinkles are coming, and a few of them won't have obvious answers even if you've completed the entire game. Part of the fun is adding my own unique twists to make the story much more than a linear gaming arc. In the meantime, feel free to drop a comment and (if you like what you're reading so far) give that "bookmark" button a click. Hope life is treating you well! - MattWords


	12. Tasks Revealed

Link awoke refreshed the following morning. The emotions of the previous day had drained him, making falling asleep on his pallet the work of a moment. Now he felt purged, the dark weight of Dorian’s death somewhat lifted from his soul.

Turning over, Link saw that breakfast had already been laid out on the elongated table in the hut. He wondered if Paya had brought it, then scolded himself for doing so. He could not afford to give place to love’s mind-addling powers. Forcefully driving that line of thought from his mind, he dressed and ate quickly.

Link’s resolve lasted until he exited the Sheikah hut -- and found Paya waiting for him outside. By all appearances, however, she was just as intent on avoiding an emotional lapse of decorum. The woman’s eyes were once again downcast, her voice and demeanor formal upon greeting him.

“If you please, Sir Link, Lady Impa waits for your coming,” Paya informed him.

She did not look nor wait for an answer, but simply turned toward Impa’s raised hut, which was easily visible from every part of the village. Without a word, Link followed.

His momentary irritation at Paya’s behavior gave way to curiosity as they made their way through Kakariko. This was the first time Link had properly taken in the village during the day. His first arrival with Brigo had been a heavily monitored one, and he had been too focused on meeting Impa at the time.

Now, Link could appreciate the privately thriving community. Like Hateno, several plots of farmland neighbored their owners’ huts, though on a much smaller scale given the limited land the hill-encircled village offered. Every crop was already being tended. Link could tell the harvest would be good this year. Healthy carrots, growing tomatoes and even large pumpkins were all well begun.

Livestock were also in evidence. One Sheikah farmwife spread seed before a large flock of cuccos within their enclosure. Another farmer finished filling a trough with edible refuse before contentedly patting the extremely large pig that began to feed. His family would eat well come winter. The open doors of a nearby set of stalls framed several Sheikah men and women, each of which was milking his or her own cow.

Thinking of the relatively small population the village contained, Link asked a question before he remembered it was Paya who would have to answer.

“Many of your goods go to others outside the village, don’t they?”

A telltale faltering of her steps gave away Paya’s surprise at being addressed. She recovered quickly, however, declining to turn her head in reply.

“Yes, Sir Link,” Paya answered coolly. “Kakariko supplies much of Hyrule through traders who buy our goods and then sell them at stables or communities in need. That is why traders are allowed to enter the village.”

Seeking to quell the annoyance Paya’s emotionless information stirred within him, Link focused on what she had said. He remembered Brigo telling him of trading parties commuting to Kakariko often. Despite the village’s ample supply, however, he saw no evidence of any such commerce happening now. Given the lack of Hylian havens after the Calamity, Link thought the lack of traders was unusual.

He said as much to Paya as they came within sight of the familiar village clearing and the long stairway leading to Impa’s hut. The young Sheikah woman seemed to hesitate before replying.

“Merchants usually come often, Sir Link,” Paya finally admitted as she stopped short of the steep stairway. “Now that the Yiga have once again made themselves known, we must conduct our business outside of the village for our own safety.”

Having arrived at their destination, Paya was forced to turn and at least give the pretense of addressing Link directly. She continued to avoid eye contact, however. Puzzled more by her words than her behavior, Link decided to pursue the subject.

“Again?” he persisted.

Paya looked up at the question, but her delicate face and brown eyes were neither neutral nor softly emotional. To Link’s surprise, he saw they radiated a blaze of anger.

“We have arrived, Sir Link,” she said with barely contained heat. “Lady Impa awaits your coming.”

Paya gave a stiff, if still technically proper, bow and left in a direction that would not force her to walk directly past Link. Like her farewell, her gait was only just contained within the bounds of Sheikah decorum. Link wondered if she would have stormed off had it been allowed.

Thoroughly confused, undecided if he should be angry at Paya or himself, Link ascended the long staircase and entered the hut through its wooden double doors.

The interior looked no different than it had at Link’s first encounter. Evenly spaced mats lined a center rug that ran to the rear of the spacious dwelling. Despite the early morning hour, all the windows had white shades drawn to diffuse the sunlight and allow the hut’s dark wooden floors and walls to dominate the ambiance. At that rug’s end, standing on the floor rather than sitting atop a pile of cushions, was Impa.

“You have not long been awake, but already something troubles you,” the Sheikah elder remarked aloud the moment Link shut the doors.

Reminded of Impa’s unerring observations, Link smoothed the irritation from his face and followed the rug’s path until he was directly in front of Impa, who was smiling up at him. The diminutive woman’s next words explained why.

“It is refreshing to be in the company of one who dismisses position and propriety,” she said lightly. “That being said, I would ask that you kneel or sit down. Not out of respect for myself, mind you, simply for convenience.”

Realizing the differences in their respective heights would indeed make conversation awkward, Link acquiesced, removing his cloak and sword. Even seated, he was very nearly as tall as the Sheikah elder. Perhaps her throne of cushions was more necessity than luxury after all.

“You know considerably more than when you were last here, Link,” Impa calmly began, her hands resting atop the short, carved handle of her wooden walking stick. “My sister set you on the path of recovering your memories and The Sword That Seals The Darkness. I trust you still desire to know the rest of what needs to be done?”

Link’s answering nod was an easy decision. The mention of the Sword and the idea of taking his next step toward saving Zelda had already set his heart pounding in anticipation.

“Very well, then,” Impa said briskly. “While the Sword and your sense of self are the final keys to victory, they cannot be the only ones. You will never defeat Ganon’s forces nor breach the walls of Hyrule Castle alone. Zelda knew this and, before she returned to the castle, asked me to give you a message after you awoke from your slumber.”

Link started up at this. “A message?” he asked incredulously. “What message did she leave for me that you felt should wait until now?”

“One you would have no hope of understanding without the memory you have just obtained,” Impa responded readily. “You now have a true, if rudimentary knowledge of the Champions who fought alongside you. You know what peoples they come from and, to an extent, who they were. As Rhoam previously told you, each of them was charged with piloting one of the four Divine Beasts meant to help turn back the Calamity. He also told you that Ganon somehow turned them and the Guardians against Hyrule’s own people.

“What you do not know,” Impa continued forcefully, “is that the Divine Beasts even now reside near the homes of their former Champions. They are still ensnared by Ganon’s power, though his control over them is no doubt limited given his current state. Even so, they are tools of magnificent power and untold terror as long they remain under the Demon King’s influence. Zelda’s message was this.”

Impa leaned forward over her walking stick, her aged eyes blazed with a light Link had not seen in them before.

“Free the Divine Beasts!” she cried. “Marshal them and the peoples of Hyrule, and they will fight alongside you against Ganon!”

Link’s hand unconsciously tousled his hair, as though it could grasp the task laid out before him. Questions flitted through his mind, each one more vague and childlike than the last in its lack of comprehension.

“Rhoam said they were large,” Link began uncertainly. “How am I to do this?”

Impa smiled approvingly in response.

“Before the Calamity,” Impa replied, “you would have charged headlong to your duty without fear — or appropriate questions. This is better. Bring me that parchment, Link.”

Impa illustrated her request by pointing toward the wall to her right. Only then did Link see a large, single sheet rolled into itself and propped up against the wall. He was hardly surprised to find Cado waiting there as well. The stern-faced Sheikah said nothing when Link approached the retrieve the parchment, and Link was more than happy to return the favor after their tense moment the day before.

The paper was yellowed and cracked, and Link thought it a wonder it did not crumble or tear as Impa began unfurling it. Link assisted her in the task after his questioning look was met with a nod of encouragement.

Now he knelt on the other side of the revealed parchment, the contents of which faced toward him. Dominating its center was the drawn depiction of a black beast with a red mane and tusked snout. A small warrior garbed in green faced the monster with sword upraised, while a golden-haired girl wearing a white robe appeared to be casting some kind of magic at the beast’s back. Drawn around the unusual trio was an army of what Link recognized to be miniature Guardians. All of them were identical, from their urn-shaped bodies to serpentine legs and singular eyes.

Nestled in the four corners of the parchment were figures of size equal to the large monster at the center. Link realized they were animals, though he only recognized two of them: a bird and a lizard. The other two were completely foreign to him. One had a long, curved neck and two humps on its back. The other sported large ears and a long, snake-like nose.

Impa, noting Link’s puzzled frown, gestured to the top side of the parchment. Its border was made up entirely of small pictures that framed the main depiction below. Impa’s short, wrinkled finger traced along drawings of what appeared to be people interacting with various tools, machines and magics.

“Ten thousand years ago,” Impa began, “Hyrule thrived as a highly advanced civilization. The Sheikah technology made commonplace what we would consider wondrous today. Powerful tools, fantastic weapons, and other mechanical aids all but ensured the kingdom’s prosperity.

“Rhoam told me of your conversation at the temple,” Impa continued. “He explained the nature of the war between Ganon and Hyrule, and how a princess graced with Hylia’s power and a chosen wielder of the Sword had always risen to meet him. Even knowing that, these people sought to tip the battle’s balance further in Hyrule’s favor.”

As she said this, Impa’s finger traveled to what were unmistakably miniature recreations of the Sheikah towers. Link nodded slowly to show he understood. Satisfied, Impa proceeded to point at the four, large animals at each of the parchment corners.

“Their most ambitious undertaking was the construction of four mechanical wonders that came to be known as Divine Beasts,” Impa continued. “These great machines were piloted by individuals of exceptional skill from across Hyrule. The Guardians were also created to ensure additional protection and prevent the need for human bloodshed. Thus, the plan to neutralize Ganon was forged.”

At this, Impa’s hand glided back to the center of the parchment, where it rested just above the red-maned monster. Then it briefly touched upon the smaller figures on either side of it: the blonde-haired girl and sword-bearing warrior.

“Upon Ganon’s inevitable return to Hyrule,” she explained, “the princess carrying Hylia’s blood and the Goddess’s chosen hero fought alongside the four Champions. They, the Divine Beasts and the Guardians unleashed a furious attack upon their terrible foe. The hero, bearing the Sword That Seals The Darkness, dealt Ganon the final blow, allowing the princess to use her sacred power to seal away the Demon King.”

“You see, now,” Impa added while briefly drawing Link’s attention from the parchment, “the extraordinary measures taken to defeat Ganon in the past. Our ancestors were successful, and we strove to follow their example one hundred years ago as the Calamity’s return drew near.”

“Except Ganon stripped those measures away,” Link interceded, recalling Rhoam’s tale on the plateau. He understood now, even if he did not yet fully comprehend the magnitude of his present duty. How did one “free” a giant, mechanical wonder? “And now you -- and Zelda -- believe they must be taken back to defeat him.”

Impa nodded, then gestured once more to the animals cunningly drawn at each parchment corner. “The four Divine Beasts are ancient Sheikah weapons that can only be boarded and piloted by a chosen Champion. You, Link, are one such Champion. As such, you will be able to enter the Divine Beasts and use your Sheikah slate to seize control of them once again.”

Link gazed once more at each of the animals on the parchment. The thought of entering enormous renderings of strange animals exceeded his imagination. Then he remembered the swirling apparition he had seen swirling around Hyrule Castle after awakening -- and the many foes he had faced since. He needed these things, however foreign they seemed to him now. Trepidation resolved, Link rose to his feet.

“Where are they?” he asked.

For answer, Impa walked around the parchment and held out her hand toward the slate hanging from Link’s belt. As he had done in his previous visit to Kakariko, Link handed the device to her. The shrunken Sheikah held the small rectangle in front of her and spoke in a clear, unmistakable voice.

“You will find the Divine Beasts and free them from Ganon’s hold,” she intoned.

The smooth, black face of the slate flared blue light until its map -- still mostly unfilled -- appeared. Impa handed it back to Link, who saw that four gold dots now blinking in unrevealed portions of the map. One lay far to the southwest, while another sat nearly in the northwest corner. Still another resided directly north of Kakariko, near the map’s top-most border.

The fourth and nearest, Link saw, winked northeast of the village, roughly the same distance from Kakariko in that direction as Hateno lay to the east.

“Which Divine Beast is this?” Link asked, pointing to the nearest glowing marker.

Impa peered intently at the map, then nodded in satisfaction.

“It is likely that is Vah Ruta, the Divine Beast commissioned to the Zora,” she answered. “Its Champion was Mipha, daughter of King Dorephan and late princess of Zora’s Domain.”

The red-skinned Zora flashed in the eye of Link’s mind, sending a familiar wave of bittersweet ache rushing through his heart and stomach. Was it his imagination, or were Impa’s brown eyes closely searching for some reaction? He moved on from the moment by pointing to the map’s revealed area northwest of Kakariko.

“Is there a direct path to the Zora from here?” he asked. Impa’s shaking head answered him.

“The Rutala River and mountains on either side of it are too perilous to cross,” Impa replied. “You must circle north around the Lanayru Wetlands before finding the path taken by non-Zora to reach the Domain. The way is dangerous, Link,” she added gravely. “Ganonspawn are massing in the wetlands. By now they no doubt know that you are awake and on the move.”

Link nodded before securing the slate back onto his belt. With luck, he would find a Sheikah tower to illuminate his path. Which reminded him…

“The slate took me to the shrine in the village,” Link said suddenly to Impa, who was still standing expectantly in front of him. “Before I left for Hateno, you said I could enter it upon my return.”

“Indeed I did,” the elderly leader agreed with another nod of approval. “That task is what awaits you now. I advise you to complete it before departing for Zora’s Domain.”

Link frowned down at Impa, who stood no higher than his waist.

“Why must you set my path for me?” he asked quietly. He did not need to look up to know Cado had once again stiffened in indignation in the now darkening corner of the hut. Impa, however, merely smiled sadly in return.

“It is not I, but Hylia who sets your path,” she answered calmly, the old woman’s gaze meeting the young man’s visage. “If and how you chose to walk it, Link, is entirely up to you.”

 

* * *

 

As he had little more than a week prior, Link found himself standing in front of the shrine of Kakariko village. Shaped like an upturned urn, it squatted before him with an eerie orange light emitting from between whirling patterns etched into its metal surface. A large, raised steppe protruded from its curved entryway. A bronze circle made up of more whorling designs was centered on that steppe, and it was there, Link knew, his paralyzed body had traveled the moment Dorian had pressed the shrine’s coinciding symbol on his slate.

The shrine entrance itself was little more than a dark archway. Link knew from past experience that the door led only to the small circular chamber just inside. The Sheikah-sigiled floor within would carry him deep underground to whatever awaited him.

When Link, Impa, and Cado arrived at the shrine, two guards had been standing watch over the ancient structure. They stepped aside and filtered wordlessly behind them — mingling into a crowd of fellow Sheikah that had begun following the trio to the southern side of the village.

Link glanced at the gathered collection of white hair and solemn faces, then spoke to Impa in as low a voice as he could muster in order to avoid being overheard.

“Must they be here to witness something they won’t be able to see?” Link asked softly.

“They have been told to prepare for your return since they were born,” Impa answered with a kindly smile. “Do not begrudge them the moment they have waited their entire lives to see.”

“And what moment is that?” Link persisted, albeit in tones too low to be heard. “What awaits me in the shrine? And what happens when I return?”

“Unlike many of the questions you have asked before, the answers to all of these will be clear in but moments,” Impa answered kindly before assuming a much more business-like air. “Now, choose your arms, Link.”

Only then did Link realize that a small selection of swords, spears, bows and shields lay neatly organized on the grass to the side of the shrine. He quickly looked back at Impa.

“You would risk my life before my journey begins?” Link asked incredulously.

“The shrines were built before the sires of my ancestors dreamed of having children,” Impa calmly answered. “I know only that this one was meant to ‘test the mettle of Hylia’s Champion.’ As for what awaits you should you succeed, it is written that ‘the survivor of shrines will be armed with death’s reach.’ Whether the former concerns you or the latter intrigues you,” she added wryly, “I would think it foolish to enter such a place unarmed.”

Truth be told, both warning and reward tugged at Link with equal strength. Curiosity ultimately won out. The shrine at the plateau had enhanced his slate with abilities that had helped Hateno stave off destruction. Could he afford to put off another gift from the Sheikah before setting off to do the near-impossible?

Without a word, Link doffed his cloak and set it next to the series of weapons. From those he selected a shield bearing the Sheikah eye sigil and a longer version of Dorian’s curved blade, which still hung at his side. Securing both additions to the belt on his back, he entered the shrine.

Link did not turn around as the floor began to move, or he would have seen white-haired heads craning to glimpse him descending into the earth.

 

* * *

 

As it had on the plateau, the circular platform bore Link ever downward in a column of blue light. The walls of the narrow tunnel encircling him were sheathed in Sheikah metal, their flawless surface hypnotic in its monotony. It was several moments before he arrived at the true interior of the shrine.

Exiting the platform’s narrow confines, Link stepped into a vast chamber with high ceilings that emanated blue light. The same metal from the tunnel covered the walls, though here they were adorned with bronze constellations.

The similarities to the shrine at the plateau ended there. There were no hallways leading off to separate chambers, nor was there a pedestal into which Link might insert his Sheikah slate. Instead, four pillars of flawed stone stretched from floor to ceiling. Link wondered at their presence. They served no purpose that he could see, and he very much doubted the shrine needed just the four of them for support. Even odder, centered perfectly between the pillars was a large, square hole in the otherwise perfectly designed stone floor.

It was at the far end of the square chamber that Link finally noticed an object of interest. Two torches containing blue fire framed what would have been an open archway -- save that it was sealed by a grille of unblemished Sheikah metal. Decided, Link started forward.

_To you who sets foot in this shrine, I am Ta’loh Naeg. In the name of the Goddess Hylia, I offer this trial of combat that you might prove yourself as Her chosen champion._

Though his name was different, Link recognized the dry, lifeless voice as identical to the one he had heard in the shrine at the plateau. His words, however, were unique. _Trial of combat?_

The floor shook. Link stumbled slightly but kept his footing. He did not remember removing the shield and sword from his back. He wielded them now, his eyes focused on the square hole in the floor, for it was from there that more noise was emitting.

Like a puzzle being completed, the square was filled by a portion of stone that had risen to fit perfectly inside it. On top of the stone, its blue eye swiveling malevolently, was a Guardian.

At least, it reminded Link of a Guardian. It was much smaller than the rusted hunks of metal he had seen on the plateau and the Ash Swamp. It sported three legs instead of six, each tipped with a trio of razor-sharp claws. Its bell-shaped body separated at its middle, the smaller head extending upward to increase its height. The single blue eye found Link and immediately turned red.

Link snarled and leaped sideways, instinctually rolling out of his landing just behind one of the stone pillars. His escape was not a moment too soon -- three short blasts of blue light shot from the Guardian’s eye, scorching the stone floor Link had just departed.

The telltale sound of metal on stone told Link the machine was coming closer, searching for the foe it could no longer see. He briefly wondered if it could hear or smell him. Until he knew for sure, he had no choice but to assume it could. Link could hear the whirring of its swiveling head accompany its clawed steps. A serpentine, metallic leg stepped into sight.

In one motion, Link pivoted from behind the pillar and swung his sword toward the thing’s head. The quiet swiftness of his strike should have caught the machine unawares. Instead, a thin metallic arm unfolded from its body. From its end a single-edged blade of blue light sprang to life and met Link’s sword in a shower of sparks.

The force of the weapons’ impact sent Link to the floor. The Guardian was on him instantly, its blade seeking his face. Link raised his shield -- and felt the machine’s sword slice through it as easily as butter. He gasped as the blue blade pierced his shoulder, failing to pierce cleanly through only because it had already exhausted its reach.

Desperate to separate himself, Link kicked upward. His booted feet caught the Guardian squarely under its rotund bottom. It was enough to send the machine toppling over, allowing Link to scramble to his feet. Throwing aside the now useless shield, he raised his long Sheikah blade with both hands just as the Guardian righted itself on its sinuous legs.

This time Link waited for the machine to make the first move while keeping a wary eye on its single blue orb. Rather than blast more blue light, the Guardian charged forward, sword upraised. Link rolled to one side, leaving the mechanical strike cleaving only empty air. Link rose to his feet and swung his sword like an axe at the machine’s body.

The metal blade bit into the neck-like extension between the Guardian’s bulbous lower body and its eye-adorned head. Quick as a blink, the thing swiveled its entire upper body, flinging Link into one of the pillars. A clawed foot removed the Sheikah blade in a shower of sparks, snapped it like a twig and discarded the now-broken weapon aside. A gash of exposed, spark-emitting innards showed from within the wound, but the thing appeared as functional as ever. Reoriented, it found Link. Instead of charging again, the single eye’s red glow intensifying once again.

Half-breathless and dazed, Link saw what was about to happen. A memory he had seen more than once resurfaced in his mind’s eye. He banished it, willing himself to face the present threat rather than dredge up one long past. Desperate, daring to hope only that he might confuse the Guardian, he rushed forward.

As the machine’s eye turned deep scarlet, Link jumped, drawing from his waist the shorter sword Dorian had given him. Just before the Guardian released its deadly blast, he drove the curved blade point-first into his foe’s lone eye.

Link felt his sword sink deep as he toppled onto his mechanical foe. Man and machine went tumbling to the ground. Only after scrambling to his feet to avoid clawed feet and glowing weapons did Link realize the thing was dead. Where its eye had been, a thin column of black smoke spiraled lazily from the now lifeless husk of metal.

Hunched over and breathing heavily, Link glanced at the sword he had kept gripped in his hands. The blade was scorched black, its once razor-keen point chipped off. The rest of the metal might very well be flawed. As it was, Dorian’s former weapon would be of little use now.

Still, Link could not bring himself to simply cast it aside. As he had realized the day before, the sword was more than a weapon. It would remain so, even if it would no longer aid him in battle. Consciously returning it to its sheath, Link turned his attention to the archway at the far end of the shrine. The grille was gone. The doorway stood open.

His right hand staunching the blood flowing from his left shoulder, Link passed through the archway and saw a familiar sight. A small chamber with walls of transparent blue light sat before him, its only occupant the long-dead remains of a man seated and slumped a throne. A pendant bearing the Sheikah eye encircled its neck.

Its mouth did not move, but Link heard the same rasping voice fill the shrine once again.

_Your triumph speaks of the hero of prophecy. Take the gift of those who came before and use it on Hylia’s behalf._

The blue light surrounding the corpse faded with its words. Only then did Link see a small chest sitting before him, its size and appearance equally unimpressive. He knelt, undid the clasp and lifted the lid.

No magnificent weapon or tool greeted him. Nestled in the middle of an aged piece of cloth lay a small orb of silvery metal and yellow light. The latter shone from within crevices of the former, illuminating the wooden walls and nondescript cloth within the chest.

Link removed it carefully, but the curious object did nothing. No further instructions issued from the strange Sheikah voice. What it was or what purpose it served, Link could not tell. His unmet expectations allowed the pain in his shoulder to flare back to awareness. Grimacing, he stowed the orb in a pouch hanging from his belt with no small amount of disappointment.

 _Is that all?_ Link wondered angrily. _Is this the price of prolonging my stay? A wound and a useless trinket?_

Incensed and in pain, Link once again crossed the large main chamber of the shrine. As the platform ascended, he leaned against the smooth metal wall, allowing himself a momentary rest before returning to the world he had left behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So begins Link's true mission. He now knows what he must do, and has gained at least some modicum of transparency from Impa in the process. For those of us who have played BOTW, it's easy to visualize the Divine Beasts and the idea of reclaiming them. For Link, with nothing more than an elderly woman and some age-old drawings, it's a mind-bending proposition.
> 
> Link and Paya seem caught between affection and duty. Their hearts yearn for the former while their moral compasses dictate the latter. Will they find a middle ground between the two?
> 
> It took me a lot of sitting and staring at nothing to figure out how the shrines would ultimately come into play (aside from their transportation features, of course). You have probably already noticed that Hyrule is not dotted with them willy nilly as it is in the game. Their number and purpose is much more selective in the story. I'm excited to see that purpose realized... even if it will take a couple more books to do so.
> 
> As always, please feel free to leave a comment, even if it's simply your reactions to the story's development. I'm grateful to those of you who have done so already, and I don't mind new/refreshed commentary as the book progresses. If I'm lucky enough to have written something you like, don't hesitate to hit that bookmark button. The next chapter gets a bit emotional... and surprising. Hope life is treating you well. - mattwrites


	13. Faces

Fatigue and loss of blood made Link unaware of his return to the surface until strong arms slid underneath his own and dragged him out. He was immediately laid on the ground, where two pairs of hands began searching his person. One pair stopped at his shoulder, where its contact with his wound make Link cry out in pain.

“To his hut, quickly! Cado, tell the others to disperse! Paya, bring water, herbs, bandages and towels!”

Eyes half-closed to block out the midday sun, Link could just make out Impa’s wrinkled visage darting sharply from one direction to the next as she issued the whip-like orders. The arms that had carried him from the shrine lifted him once again, but this time they kept his body horizontal to the ground. Despite the lack of a stretcher, those bearing him did not let his body jerk or shake en route to the hut.

In what seemed no time at all, Link was lain on his pallet and stripped down to his waist. Impa dismissed the two Sheikah men who had carried him, leaving only herself, Paya and Link remaining in the hut. The younger woman repeatedly came and went to deliver supplies to her grandmother, whose spider-like hands deftly washed, poulticed and dressed his wound with a disarming softness countered by a slew of irritable mutterings.

“All our technology poured into a century’s worth of healing and safety, and this is how you thank us,” Impa softly vented. “It is a wonder you survived Hateno last week, let alone the Calamity one hundred years ago. Paya, bring him water to drink. What did you face in the shrine, boy?”

Link’s indignation was blunted by Paya’s kind proferring of a flask to his lips. Knowing he could not yet rise by himself, he allowed her to gently tip the water into his open mouth. As she did, Link noticed her eyes widening at the sight of the many scars criss-crossing his chest and arms. Seeking to deflect attention and awkwardness alike, he decided to focus on Impa.

“A Guardian,” Link answered after he had drunk. “A small one. At least, that is what I think it was.”

“Just one?” Impa asked. At his confirming nod, the elder’s eyes narrowed. “And did you use your slate to aid you? Even once, did it occur to you to rely on more than the piece of dead metal in your hands?

Shocked embarrassment quenched Link’s previously rising temper. He had not even considered using the slate. Unlike at Hateno, where careful planning had allowed him to review all the weapons at his disposal, the Guardian’s unexpected appearance had left him time only to rely on instinct. Wordlessly, he shook his head in reply.

“You must think!” Impa hissed furiously. “Neither Zelda nor Hyrule can afford for you to forget the tools provided for you to save them!”

“Little good they will do me if they are as useless as the one I found!” Link snapped angrily in return.

To his astonishment, the Sheikah elder actually snorted in a manner that reminded him strongly of Brigo.

“Is there still food here, Paya?” Impa asked, all but ignoring her indignant charge. “Bring him something. Humor and hunger always walked hand in hand with this one. It seems a century’s passing has left that much intact, at least.”

The younger woman jumped like a startled doe to her feet, but not before Link realized she had remained kneeling beside him, continuing to stare at the faded blemishes on his body. _Maybe I won’t have to drive her away anymore,_ he thought bitterly.

That thought was interrupted by the aroma of food as Paya returned with a platter of smoked meat and vegetables. In his haste to eat, Link forgot that sitting up caused no small amount of pain to his shoulder.

“Stay down and let the child feed you,” Impa said with nearly as much irritation as Link and Paya showed at her instructions. She ignored both of them. “What did you find in the shrine?”

For answer, Link removed the sphere from his pouch and tossed it none too softly at the old woman. She caught it deftly with one hand -- _Of course she did_ , he thought bitterly -- and proceeded to examine it closely.

A few moments of silence passed, during which Paya fed Link as though he were a child. Her annoyance at the task, however, seemed to have softened now that she was near Link once again. Perhaps forgetting herself, Paya’s unoccupied hand reached out as though it might touch one of the scars on Link’s right forearm. The Sheikah maiden snatched it back immediately when Impa spoke.

“I do not know what this is,” the elder admitted. “Neither, I believe, would my sister. Her knowledge of the ancient technology is that of the larger structures, such as the towers and shrines -- and the slates that connect them.”

“So it is useless,” Link confirmed heatedly between spoonfuls of meat. “If you are angry, be angry at your ancestors. Had I known this was all that awaited me, I would not have entered. Traveling here through the slate -- and losing my friends -- was price and prize enough.”

“I said my sister and I do not know its use,” Impa answered firmly. “There is one other who might. Like Purah, he is a recluse, driven by his thirst for knowledge. His name is Robbie, and he dwells in the northeasternmost part of Hyrule. If fate takes you there, he may be able to help.”

Without asking, Impa removed the slate from Link’s belt and spoke clearly to it.

“You will go to Robbie of Akkala.”

A telltale sound like that of a small bell answered from the slate. Upon receiving it from Impa, Link saw that a fifth golden dot now winked near the top-right corner of the map.

“I cannot promise to see this Robbie of yours,” Link warned none too patiently. “I have already spent a fortnight tending to everything but that which I set out to do. I will not waste more. I leave for Zora’s Domain on the morrow.”

Impa tsked loudly, but did not immediately reply. Making certain Link’s wound was properly bandaged one last time, she slowly stood and retrieved her walking stick. Only when she arrived at the hut’s sliding door did she turn to address him once more.

“Your supplies will be ready for you in the morning,” Impa informed him. “Sleep now, but come to me at dusk. Your wound prevented the ceremony from being completed. It will do my people good to witness its conclusion before you go, and it will not take long.”

“What ceremony?” Link demanded.

Ignoring him, Impa addressed her granddaughter.

“Stay only to ensure he finishes his meal, then leave him in peace.”

At Paya’s assenting nod, Impa exited the hut. Link immediately turned to his caretaker, who was about to resume feeding him.

“What ceremony is she talking about?” he reiterated. The girl hesitated before responding.

“That shrine has stood as a sign of your coming,” Paya finally explained. “As children, we were told its completion would signal your return -- and the coming fall of Ganon. I believe Grandmother has something planned now that it has happened, though I do not know what.”

Perhaps to prevent further questioning, Paya followed her answer with another spoonful of food. Link chewed reflectively. He did not think the girl was hiding anything from him, but he sorely missed Dorian. He had always been eager to explain anything to Link, particularly his people’s history.

Link was startled out of his musings by a sudden outbreak of goosebumps. Paya had given in to her earlier curiosity and was now tracing a long scar that ran up the side of his right arm.

“Do… do you remember these?” she asked softly, not looking at him.

Trying to quell the shivers her touch had produced, Link shook his head. “They are as unfamiliar to me as your grandmother, whom I supposedly knew well.”

Paya’s soft finger followed the course of the scar until it ran into the edge of fresh bandaging at his shoulder.

“So much pain forgotten,” she whispered. “And now you suffer again.”

Link was nonplussed. Was this not the same woman who had been angry with him that very morning? His confusion reminded him of how that conversation had ended.

“Why do the Yiga trouble you so?” Link asked quietly.

Silence answered him at first, accompanied only by Paya’s finger retracing its path down the same scar on his arm. When she finally spoke, it was without emotion.

“The Yiga killed my parents,” she said hollowly, as though empty acknowledgment had deadened the pain within. “I was two. I do not remember them.”

Her loss called to his. When Paya’s finger reached the scar’s end near his wrist, Link gently seized her hand.

“I am sorry,” he said quietly.

Tears sprung to Paya’s eyes. Her hand convulsed over his, then pulled away.

“I -- I must go,” she stammered as she struggled to her feet and ran to the door.

“Paya!”

The girl stopped and turned her head, as though only a part of her wanted to listen. Snow-white wisps of hair mingled with the tears running down her face. Despite the pain, Link had managed to prop himself up on his elbows in order to see her.

“I do not know what the future holds, Paya, but if this ends and I somehow live--”

“Don’t!” Paya cried as she held up a hand to forestall him. “Please, don’t! I cannot bear to think of you not, not -- I cannot! Let me hope for what you would say, but speak it not when you have promised so much to so many already!”

With that, Paya fled through the door of Link’s hut for the second time in as many days.

 

* * *

 

The pain from Link’s wound combined with his confusion over Paya made falling asleep all but impossible. When he did briefly drift off, it was to find demons past and present waiting for him. Zelda and the four Champions gazed at him sadly, but none more so than that of the beautiful Zora.

Link tried to explain that he would return for her, but the heart-shaped face merely wept. Then the Zora was Paya, and she too turned away in despair. Then Paya’s brown eyes converged and became one blue eye glowing in the darkness. Link ran both to escape the eye and to find Zelda, but he only found her voice, urging him to hasten. Yet the faster he ran, the fainter the voice became, until he heard nothing but the chink of metal on wood. The Guardian was nearly upon him. Link turned and raised a sword of bright blue light.

“Sir Link! It is I, Cado!”

It was the Sheikah’s iron-hard grip on his wrist that finally woke him. Link saw the blackened blade of Dorian’s sword was just inches away from Cado’s face, which was taut with the strain of holding off the unconscious blow. Link immediately relaxed.

“I am sorry, Cado,” he gasped. “My dreams were ill-bred.”

The Sheikah captain waited a moment to make sure Link was truly subdued. Then he released him and rose, by all appearances completely unperturbed.

“I would not have entered had Lady Impa not asked me to do so, Sir Link,” Cado stated matter-of-factly. “She thought your wound would have healed enough by now. I will tell her you are not yet ready if you wish.”

Only then did Link realize that late evening sunlight was pouring through the screened windows. Dusk would arrive very soon. He rose to his feet, pleasantly surprised to find that only minor discomfort remained in his shoulder. Wondering what poultice Impa had used, he quickly donned his clothes. A new tunic, identical to the one ruined by the Guardian, waited for him, as did a new leather pauldron for his shoulder. Link marveled at their quality and the swiftness with which they had been completed.

“If we are to go, it must be now, Sir Link,” Cado interjected politely.

Nodding in agreement, Link gathered his cloak and Dorian’s sword before taking one last look around the all-but-empty hut. He was ready to be quit of this place. Too much and not enough had happened here.

Link knew something was different the moment he stepped outside. Enough daylight remained for everyday tasks, but the village was devoid of its usual activity. Crops and livestock sat untended by human hands. No Sheikah strode the village paths purposefully toward his or her destination.

“Where is everyone?” Link asked warily. Cado inclined his head slightly as he responded.

“You see much, Sir Link,” the Sheikah acknowledged. “My people await with Lady Impa. Come, please.”

The full import of Impa’s “ceremony” beginning to sink in, Link resigned himself to following Cado toward the now-familiar village clearing. It was after they rounded a large storefront that Link saw the crowd. It seemed every Sheikah in the village had gathered in front of the steps leading up to Impa’s hut. All of them wore white coats and trousers or robes, which combined with their hair to form a sea of white that drowned the packed dirt on which they stood

The outermost ring of heads turned at the pair’s approach. Eyes glanced toward his shoulder, but Link had already accounted for that. “ _It will do my people good...”_ That would not be the case if he showed weakness now. Link strove to hide what little pain remained from his wound. The sea of Sheikah parted to allow the pair to pass. Link forced himself to avoid scanning the myriad of faces for Paya. Perhaps it was better this way.

Hundreds of eyes quietly followed Link as he arrived with Cado at the foot of the stairs. The Sheikah captain then stood to one side, gesturing upward. Link looked in that direction and saw Impa waiting at the landing in front of her hut. Not knowing what awaited him there, he ascended.

A small smile played on the familiar wrinkled face as Link approached. Impa’s first words were loud enough only for the two of them.

“You are well?” she asked softly. At his nod, the Sheikah elder’s smile broadened. Then she gestured for Link to stand next to her and turn, so that both of them faced the white mass below.

“Link of Hyrule has returned!” Impa declared with a volume that belied her great age. “He has conquered the shrine that waited for him for centuries untold with the same bravery I myself witnessed of him a century ago. Now he departs to finish the task appointed him by our last king: to see the kingdom of Hyrule restored!”

In an instant, the quiet solemnity of the Sheikah was shattered by a roar that nearly made Link stumble backward in shock. Curved swords were raised to the sky. Children cheered from the shoulders of parents. Tears leaked from the eyes of the eldest among them, those whose parents had witnessed first-hand what Link was setting out to redeem.

Impa raised a wrinkled hand, casting a spell of silence over her people.

“Link will not accomplish this task alone!” she cried. “Even now, those who are not here with us work to pave the way for those to come. Others will flock to the Hyrulean banner. We will unite as one, merging like raindrops until we are a mighty flood from which the Demon King cannot hide!”

Another roar, louder than the first, issued from those gathered below. Link marveled at the show of raw emotion, which caused own blood to race with battle lust. Just when the energy of the scene might have begun to ebb, Impa asked for silence and spoke once more.

“Hylia is with us,” she declared solemnly. “So must we be with her and her chosen knight. We will lend our support with our arms and our food and our lives. Be watchful. The time approaches.”

“We will watch until the time has come!”

The villagers reply knelled as one voice, the forceful unity of their answer sending small shivers down Link’s arms and back. The final exchange was clearly the formal conclusion of the ceremony; as soon as their own echoes died, the Sheikah dispersed to resume whatever activity needed doing. In a trice, the village center was all but empty, with no sign that such a gathering had taken place.

The only exception was Cado, who now took the opportunity to ascend the stairs. He walked right past Link and opened the double doors, through which Impa motioned Link should enter. Slightly confused, he did so, followed closely by the old woman and Cado. The latter closed the doors, but Impa did not resume her usual space at the other end of the room. Instead, she took a small bundle from Cado and presented it to Link.

“I know you are eager to depart, so I will be brief,” Impa explained kindly. “The garments worn by Sheikah warriors are made in such a way that the person who wears them may be more silent than the most skilled hunter or assassin. These were made for you. Use them well.”

Eyes wide with surprise, Link unfolded the bundle just enough to see various shades of dark blue greet his eyes. Within the folds he glimpsed a dark red depiction of the Sheikah eye. He looked down at the elderly face that had been the source of so much frustration and confusion since his awakening. _Perhaps she knows what she’s about after all,_ Link thought ruefully.

“Thank you,” he said aloud. “Thank you for what you have given me.”

Impa smiled knowingly. “Thank you for what you will be giving us.”

 

* * *

 

The man stood amid a writhing mass of lizalfos, ignoring their tilted heads and round, rolling eyes. Around and behind him, the occasional forked tongue snaked out to taste the man’s scent. The Wizzrobe knew the underfed lizardspawn wanted to eat the man. The Wizzrobe would kill them if they tried.

Even so, the red-clad warlock gave grudging respect to Hylian. The sight of armed and armored lizalfos alone should have set the man to spasming in terror. Not one tremor -- nor any movement, for that matter -- disturbed the thick folds of the man’s long, dark cloak. Even his face gave nothing away from behind the thin black mask that covered it. In silent anonymity, he waited for his host to speak.

The Wizzrobe loomed before him, his great height magnified by his far more voluminous robes and hood. The Wizzrobe wondered if the man feared him.

He had no reason to. The man was valuable, for now. The Wizzrobe contemplated that value with the twisted rod held in his long, gloved fingers, its rounded end emitting the same red glow as its owner’s eyes.

“The boy leaves tomorrow?”

The question grated from within the Wizzrobe’s red cowl like a rusted gate sliding open. The lizardspawn grew still, fearful of interrupting the now-resumed conversation.

The black cloth concealing the man’s face barely stirred upon answering.

“He will depart from Kakariko tomorrow, but in what direction I do not know.”

The Wizzrobe’s fingers twitched ever so slightly over his wand. The crimson-clothed sorcerer was sorely tempted to snuff out the Hylian’s life then and there. A mere man, addressing one of the Lomei without a hint of deference or honorific. Once every drop of information was extracted, the fool would find himself pleading to his filthy goddess to let the lizalfos have him.

“Why tell me this?” the Wizzrobe hissed softly. “If the boy roams beyond my reach, you will have wasted time and an opportunity to serve the Demon King yourself.”

This time, the man was smart enough to acknowledge the warlock’s thinly veiled displeasure with a slight bow of the head. Perhaps he would keep it intact after all.

“Until he leaves, the boy is too well protected against a hidden blade, even one as invisible as my own,” the man neutrally explained through his black mask. “Even alone, he is formidable. Your skill and army were the best courses available for accomplishing what our Master has commanded. If the boy eludes you, I will of course resort to other means.”

The man’s not-so-subtle hint of equality, followed by his equally discernible threat, nearly ignited the Wizzrobe’s anger beyond recall. As it was, he flicked the red-glowing wand in his hand. In an instant, three rings of fire surrounded the man at his neck, waist and legs, all of them shrinking slowly inward toward his darkly clothed flesh. The gathered lizalfos twitched and jumped in agitation, their eyes rolling and tongues flicking madly at the prospect of a fresh meal.

The Wizzrobe’s eyes blazed in the night, their blurred reflection visible in the wetlands’ waters. How satisfying it would be when this Hylian learned his place below those empowered by the Demon King.

“You will apprise me of the boy’s whereabouts regardless of where he goes,” the Wizzrobe heatedly wheezed. “If I do not hear from you in two days, your life -- and whatever worth remains to it -- is forfeit, Hylian.”

The man showed no alarm at the sight of circling flame nor at the warlock’s words. Impassively he stood, his masked visage matching the calm of the rest of him.

“Take care that you do not forfeit your chances at being named _Karanlik_ , Wizzrobe,” the man said with tantalizing calm.

The Wizzrobe was so startled that the rings of fire disappeared. The lizalfos, able to understand the Hylian tongue, had gone completely silent.

“How do you know?” the Wizzrobe hissed.

“It is enough that I do,” the man smoothly replied. “If you claim that honor, it is yours. If you fail to do so, our Master will know how and why. With that in mind, I suggest you deem my life -- and the knowledge it offers -- of great worth indeed.”

With those words -- and without waiting for any hint of dismissal -- the man turned on his heel departed unopposed through the restless crowd of lizalfos. With his black cloak, it did not take the Hylian long to disappear into the night.

The Wizzrobe did not wait. Another flick of his wand created a wall of fire some twenty feet high around the small island on which the lizalfos were gathered. Unlike the rings around the man, the wall closed inward quickly, instantly killing the surprised and entrapped creatures.

The stench drew other lizalfos to the island, but the Wizzrobe did not care about them. They had not heard the promise of _Karanlik._

 

* * *

 

Sidon poked at a smoking pile of wood with his spear. There was no hope behind the effort, but any action seemed better than none at all. Doing nothing would have felt like an admission of defeat to the forces that had decimated Woodlands Stable.

The Zora prince had seen and smelled the bokoblins long before finding the remains of their handiwork. He had taken great pains to avoid their notice, for they were many and on the move. By now, the Ganonspawn had either crossed the Thims Bridge or continued south along the Hylia River’s eastern banks. The former would mean they intended to wipe out the Wetlands Stable. The latter would lead the beasts to Zora’s Domain.

Much as it pained Sidon to admit it, he needed the pigspawn to make for the stable first. It would be nearly impossible to evade both these Ganonspawn and the lizalfos in the wetlands to reach his water brethren. He and those with him would be all but sealed out of Zora’s Domain, too late to help their people and too few to help themselves.

Woodlands Stable had lain at the base of Death Mountain, just southeast of a village that had fallen to similar evil one hundred years prior. Sidon gripped the haft of his spear tightly. Rauru Settlement had been kind to the Zora, ever willing to supply trade and welcome in equal measure. The community had been home to the families of fishermen and soldiers, the latter of which were stationed at a Hylian military camp just north of where Sidon now stood. Both village and camp were now decrepit ruins of an age long past.

Now Sidon was bearing witness to a new wave of filth that threatened to engulf his world. Even now it was gathering strength against his own kingdom, which was already floundering amid Vah Ruta’s waters from within.

The crunch of wood and ash called Sidon’s attention. A blue-skinned Zora, still glistening from his recent swim to reach him, saluted with his spear.

“Prince Sidon,” Gruve greeted him, “the Ganonspawn have crossed the Thims.”

The Zora prince breathed a sigh of relief.

“Thank Hylia,” Sidon murmured to himself before addressing his companion. “What of Fronk’s party? Have you seen or heard from them?”

“Nothing, Your Highness,” Gruve answered worriedly. “If they are still near Wetlands Stable, the Ganonspawn will likely find them.”

“And lose them,” Sidon concluded in the most light-hearted manner he could muster. Traversing Hyrule without stepping on some Calamity-bred filth seemed all but impossible now. “Bokoblins have no hope of harming our brethren as long as they stay near the river, which I have commanded them to do.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Gruve nodded. Sidon, however, noticed the young bull seemed to be glancing worriedly to the side. At first, he could not see why that would be.

“What is it, Gruve?” he asked, concerned.

“Forgive me, Your Highness,” Gruve admitted shamefully. “It’s just… I’ll be glad to get away from _that_.”

Sidon looked to where Gruve had gestured and understood. From the midst of the military camp ruins a short distance away reared another of the magnificently curious Sheikah Towers that had sprouted from the earth some weeks ago. Unlike its twin in the wetlands, this one was not surrounded by an army of lizardspawn. Sidon had taken a moment to appraise the structure at its base. He had marveled much while learning little.

Gruve, however, had endured the unfortunate experience of being atop the wetlands tower when it began rising from the earth. The poor Zora had waited a full day before resigning himself to a rushed escape from both the fearful height and the surrounding lizalfos.

“Surely it is not so different from a waterfall’s peak?” Sidon asked with a sudden grin.

Gruve blew water out of his nose in response. “Only if Hylia kept you at the top and forced you to look down.”

Sidon nodded sympathetically. Soaring the waters was not the same as soaring the heavens, the latter of which was a foreign and unwanted gift to the Zora.

“What now, Your Highness?”

Gruve’s question recalled Sidon’s attention to where it was required. What now, indeed? Half a score of his people were still out there, searching for a Hylian that would face Vah Ruta. Had their search been in vain?  If it was, could they risk another attempt? Two swarms of Ganonspawn massed outside the Domain, threatening both it and its closest neighboring stable. Would his people face their fires or Vah Ruta’s flood first?

“We will fall back to Inogo Bridge,” Sidon said finally while slinging his enormous spear over his back. “There we will wait until Fronk’s party returns. Until then, we will ensure the Ganonspawn do not attempt to enter the Domain. Tell the others at the river. I will join you shortly.”

Gruve saluted and left, Sidon noted, with a relieved glance towards the looming Sheikah tower. The Zora prince’s smile disappeared as he knelt in the cooling ash of Woodlands Stable. The sensation was uncomfortable for a Zora, but comfort was the least of his concerns now. What he was about to do was usually done in the shallow banks of a river. That was for his own people, of course.

“You have navigated the rivers of life and found their end,” Sidon murmured, his right hand clenching burnt timber rather than damp driftwood. “May Hylia’s waters welcome you home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of emotion from the normally reserved Sheikah, a change especially apparent in Paya. After being spoonfed propriety her whole life, it's easy to see why her affection for Link has torn her in two. It took me a while to decide how she would react, and hopefully her future actions will sit well with you.
> 
> Unlike the rest of Hyrule's people, the Sheikah have known of and been waiting for Link's return since his fall to the Calamity. This chapter was the opportunity to show how much that wait cost - and what seeing Hyrule's Champion return portended for them. It's no longer a hopeful tale. It's real and happening, perhaps just as the eldest among them would have been tempted to discard their hopes of this day dawning.
> 
> We haven't seen the last of the Wizzrobe's mysterious "ally." As for the warlock himself, his merciless efforts to become Karanlik have only just begun. Transforming him from a faceless, story-less bad guy into a key antagonist took some brainstorming, but I'm honestly excited for where his character is heading.
> 
> The plight of the wetlands and Zora's Domain is becoming clear, now, and will become clearer in the chapters ahead. Though far more prepared, Sidon's people seem in as much danger as the overwhelmed stable. Don't worry: much, much more of the Zora is coming.
> 
> As always, please feel free to leave a review/comment. Whether you're an entrenched Zelda fan or enjoying this world for the first time, it's fun seeing and responding to your takes and reactions. If I was lucky enough to write something you enjoy, don't hesitate to hit that bookmark button. 
> 
> On a personal note, my wife is expecting a baby this week. Please forgive me for any fatigue-induced errors either current or upcoming. That being said, I love being a dad, and I can't wait to renew that feeling with a new daughter. I hope life is treating you well. - MattWords


	14. Rescue and Remembrance

The early morning sun spilled over the gentle landscape of Sahasra Slope. A steady breeze stirred the ample wildgrass with green, rolling waves. Rather than whitecaps, these land-locked breakers were topped by rock outcroppings which served as reminders of the mountains from which Sahasra extended northwest.

Link stood on one of those rises, absentmindedly patting Epona's strong neck. The mare whickered slightly, appreciating the attention after being roused before dawn's first light had interrupted the sky.

Impa had pleasantly surprised Link with the horse that morning, informing him that Purah had sent it back to Kakariko with traders from Hateno. They had delivered both horse and goods yesterday afternoon while Link had slept.

Glad to have at least one friend with which to share his journey, Link had saddled the chestnut with supplies already prepared and waiting for him: food, firewood, a pallet, and even a tent for sleeping in inclement weather. His gratitude increased the most, however, upon finding a sheathed broadsword and round shield among the provisions. Their presence piqued his curiosity, especially with the ever-present Cado looking on.

"I have not seen any of your people armed with these," Link noted to Impa. "How did you come by them?"

"Cado mentioned that you see much," the elder replied with her now familiar aged smile. "These are relics from Hylian soldiers who fought the Calamity a century ago, now restored."

Link briefly took up the sword and unsheathed it. The double-edged blade was plain, well-balanced and honed to a razor-keen finish. His hands tightened around the leather-bound grip, which sat between the weapon's unadorned cross-guard and pommel. The sword felt much more familiar than the Sheikah sword or the short blade he had taken from a fallen bokoblin. The only commonality was that it, too, left him wanting in some way he could not explain.

Shaking off the feeling of incompleteness, Link flourished the blade twice, then returned it to its scabbard of silver and blue. That he secured to his back, the hilt within familiar reach over his right shoulder. The shield he stowed on the horse's left side, opposite the bow .

"I really should come up with a name for you," Link had murmured to the now burdened animal.

"In only one case was the steed of the chosen hero ever recorded," Impa offered readily under the lightening darkness of dawn's approach. "It is written that horse's name was Epona, and that she served her master well in victory."

Link savored the name while admiring the chestnut's dark red coat and white points.

"I carry enough reminders of a past gone wrong," he mused while gesturing briefly to the sword at his back and the ruined Sheikah blade at his waist. "Something from a happier ending will do me well."

With that, Link swung up easily onto the saddled mare. Impa hobbled alongside them and rested a wrinkled hand on the animal's chest.

"The blessing of Hylia goes with you, Link," she said softly. "Let it soften the past and brighten the future, for the latter is what needs you most, now."

A silent nod, and Link had galloped off on the path that exited Kakariko to the northwest. The narrow canyon through which it ran had been empty. Now, looking back the way he had come, Link could see why. The rolling Sahasra would tax even the most well-built stock attempting to scale it. Even if a foe reached and discovered the concealed road he had just taken, the canyon's bottleneck would render any army all but useless. Even so, Link would not hesitate to wager that the pass was watched at all times.

Link returned his gaze northwest, for Impa had told him he must continue in that direction to circumnavigate the Lizalfo-infested wetlands.

"Make straight for the castle until you meet the road," she had told him before adding sternly, "and follow the road north, boy. You will do Zelda no good as you are now."

Link understood the admonition now. Hyrule Castle reared in plain sight to the northwest, the red tendrils of Ganon's essence still swirling around its base. He had not lain eyes on the structure since first setting out from the Great Plateau. Seeing it now - and knowing Zelda was somehow trapped within - renewed his urgency to hasten.

Link glimpsed a glimmer of blue dividing the valley before him from the plain on which the castle stood. Impa had told him the road he sought ran on his side of the river, that he must follow it to the Wetland Stable. There, he might find the best way - and possibly willing aid - to circle the swamp and make his way to Zora's Domain.

A quick glance at his Sheikah slate confirmed that his knowledge was reduced to what Impa had told him. The yellow marker indicating Link's location stood at the edge of the revealed portion of the map. Looking up and to the northeast, he could see a Sheikah tower rising from a series of foothills beyond the wetlands. Time - and the enemy's presence - would tell whether that tower could be safely reached.

Stowing the slate back on his belt, Link mounted Epona and resumed guiding her down the slope. He followed a wide and shallow furrow that followed the northwestern direction he sought, knowing it would conceal him from any enemies near the wetlands' southernmost edge.

Another element began to aid Link's cover: rain. It was little more than a drizzle, but enough to make him draw the hood of his cloak over his head. The land flattened rapidly. He was leaving the Sahasra behind, the southernmost edge of the wetlands appearing to his right. Despite the rain, Link retrieved his bow from the saddlehorn and nocked an arrow to its string. Impa had warned him this open stretch of land between slope and stable would be the most dangerous, leaving him exposed to lizalfos and Hylia knew what else. Link's goal was to reach the woods nestled between the road and river, then use it for cover until he arrived at the stable.

The road revealed itself in short order, but Link kept just off its now muddied track so Epona could find better purchase among the neighboring grassland. The rain was still thin, allowing him to glimpse the edge of the woods he sought. He was about to guide his now besodden mount across the road when movement ahead caught his eye.

Where the path split some feet ahead, half a score of armed lizalfos surrounded what Link could only assume was a Zora, for the creature was very similar to Mipha in his memory. The front of her body was milky white and bore feminine curves sheathed in a silvery breastplate. The rest of her rubbery skin was turquoise in color, with small, multi-colored fins protruding from her elbows and shoulders. The Zora's face was human, save that her eyes were yellow. Headfins hung where ears would normally be, while a long caudal fin extended from the back of her head down to the middle of her back.

Link might have appreciated the creature's unique beauty were she not so desperately outnumbered by the armored lizard monsters circling her. The Zora's teeth were bared as she hissed at her assailants. Only her long spear - silver and tipped by a graceful arrow-shaped head, kept the Ganonspawn at bay.

Even as he booted Epona forward, Link was forcibly reminded of Brigo, who had been similarly surrounded and outnumbered at their first meeting. The lizalfos numbered more than thrice the bokoblins that had assaulted his old friend, however, and they were far larger than the pig-like Ganonspawn. Each was nearly the size of Epona, their curved backs encased in serrated metal armor. A sinuously curved horn protruded from between their round eyes, which Link intuitively knew could observe much more of their surroundings than any Hylian. Roughly half of them carried crude spears tipped with viciously jagged iron tips, while the others made do with wooden clubs.

The Zora was already bleeding heavily from several wounds. She would not last much longer. Link's only hope was to draw her assailants' attention as quickly as possible.

Link rode straight into the Ganonspawn. Despite the lizards' size, Epona did not balk as she plowed into their midst. Link trampled the first one in his path, then forced his steed to rear and strike out with her shod front hooves at another. As the latter crumpled from the blow to its skull, Link leapt from his saddle with his bow already drawn and nocked. Instinct guiding him as though he had done so countless times before, Link loosed a shaft in midair. The steel-tipped arrow took another of the beasts through one of its swiveling eyes. Landing upright in the muddied road, he slapped Epona in the hindquarters, urging the horse to flee out of harm's way.

The lizardspawn hissed and spat at the unexpected interruption. Link's first goal was complete. After losing three of their number so quickly, the monsters' attention was diverted from their original prey.

Link tossed aside his bow and drew the sword from his back. Even wet, the weapon felt one with his hands, his arms - with him. He held it point up and forward, his eyes darting quickly to keep track of his foes. Ignoring her wounds, the Zora took up her stand at Link's back, ensuring the Ganonspawn would catch him unawares from behind. Back-to-back, the rain still drizzling from above, Hylian and Zora waited for the monsters to attack.

A lizalfo to Link's left rushed first, followed quickly by a pair to the right.

"Take the one!" Link quickly shouted. He did not wait to see whether the Zora did as he had ordered. The lizardspawn were fast - far swifter than bokoblins. They scurried forward, their muscular hind legs propelling them swiftly and lightly across the waterlogged road. Their shorter forearms held spears leveled and ready to strike.

Link pivoted smoothly to one side of the first Lizalfo's spear thrust, then forward under its guard. His upward stroke sliced cleanly through the monster's throat and face. He carried his blade's momentum left then down, where it parried the second foe's swinging attempt at waist-height. Link spun inward, his sword whirling with him and into the animal's stomach. The beast collapsed in a convulsing heap.

A spitting rattle told Link the Zora had succeeded in slaying her assailant, but the remaining four monsters were now rushing en masse. Three of them made for Link, while the last attacked the Zora.

Impa's reprimand ringing in his memory, Link whipped out the slate with his left hand and, as he had done at Hateno, pressed the glowing symbol of a padlock with his thumb. A beam of yellow light erupted from the slate's end and slammed into the nearest Lizalfo. The stasis rune would, Link knew, keep the creature immobile for but a moment. The yellow light enveloping the frozen monster was already beginning to blink faster, its hold quickly waning.

Link stowed the slate and resumed the sword just as the remaining two Lizalfos were upon him, their spears stabbing forward simultaneously. Link rolled forward to avoid both seeking spearpoints, then turned and swung upward. One of the Ganonspawn was dead before it hit the ground. Already back on his feet, Link's sword turned down once more. The blow severed the last lizalfo's spear in a mass of splinters, leaving the creature's narrow chest completely exposed to Link's following thrust.

Link turned to finish the lizalfo he had frozen, only to find the Zora already dispatching the creature. She ripped her spear free of the scaled body and leaned heavily upon it, blood trickling from half a dozen wounds on her tall, gracefully built body. The gash atop her fish-like crown was the most severe, and her breathing was labored as she addressed him.

"Who... are you?" she gasped.

Link had already sheathed his blade and was now scanning the surrounding area for more Ganonspawn. To his immense relief, he saw only Epona trotting back to him, clearly aware the battle was over. Knowing time was short, he hurried over to put a supporting shoulder under the Zora's arm. She had to hunch over to take advantage of the gesture - she was at least half as tall again as her Hylian savior.

"I am Link," he said quickly, taking care that his haste did not aggravate her injuries. "We must move before more of them arrive. Get on the horse and we will get you to the stable."

To his great surprise, the Zora drew up to her full and considerable height, her yellow eyes blazing with offended pride.

"I am Mei of Zora's Domain, a walker of waters and fisher of the deep currents!" she declared heatedly. "I will not submit myself to lolling about on some beast like a sack of land-bound meal! Point me to the river, that I may resume my noble quest and aid Prince Sidon in the salvation of our people!"

With that proclamation, Mei collapsed onto the mud-strewn road, completely unconscious. Shaking his head in disbelief, Link stowed her spear along with his own gear and began the arduous task of lifting the Zora onto Epona's back. The effort caused hot sweat to pour down his face despite the rain-cooled weather. When he finally managed to heave Mei belly-down across the saddle, the chestnut mare whinnied and craned her head to give Link what he interpreted as a look of extreme reproach.

Patting her neck to show his understanding, Link led his Zora-burdened horse northwest. The edge of the woods was clearly visible, though they stood on ground slightly elevated from the road. Despite his urgency to find cover, Link was forced to take extreme caution. One hasty step on the wet, rising ground would lose him both steed and stranger. Between carefully guiding his mount and keeping watch for more Ganonspawn, over an hour had passed before he reached the trees.

Link welcomed the forest not only for concealment, but for cover from the increasing rainfall. Even the thick chickaloo leaves did not prevent heavy drops from trickling through to the forest floor. Mei remained inert, her shallow breathing the only sign that she had not succumbed to her wounds.

The mud-bound battle, combined with the exhausting task of depositing Mei onto Epona, began to take its toll on Link as well. He kept a tight grip on Epona's reigns as he led her through the woods, raindrops spattering him until he was soaking wet. He stumbled at the last minute to avoid a rock outcropping from which several trees sprouted. Link's body slumped with weariness, but he refused to give in to fatigue's call. They had to keep moving...

* * *

Link ran faster than he had ever run in his life. He had been running for so fast and so long that even the sword on his back, which had always felt a part of him, was digging painfully into his back. He could feel the long, angular end of the hilt jab into his shoulder blade again and again and again, rubbing raw the skin that could be seen through his torn and mud-spattered tunic. The rhythmic pain of the sword was matched by a similar fire searing his side, a stitch that jabbed as sharply as any blade.

He did not care. They had to get away.

Rain poured from the heavens in an unceasing deluge as Link struggled to avoid trees, shrubs and rocks in his headlong sprint through the forest. Pools of water and mud gathered to further punish him every time he failed to avoid an obstacle, but Link paid them no mind. Cleanliness and stealth were no longer options. They had to get away.

Link did not look back, but he felt his companion's hand gripped firmly in his own. It was a smaller hand, smooth to the touch where mud did not cover it. He knew that if he loosened his iron grip, if he so much as let it slip, she would fall, and likely not rise again. He could not let that happen.

Like a pair of foxes fleeing the hound, they fled those that hunted them. Link inwardly thanked and cursed the rain. It gave them additional cover, but it did the same for their pursuers. Link knew the odds were greater that they would be discovered before evading discovery.

Movement to the right. Link did not wait. He swung his companion by the arm, flinging her behind the cover of a great chickaloo tree. He stood in front of it, hoping to draw the thing's attention. His sword was drawn, its magnificent blade glowing blue in the darkness. Unsheathing it had been an unconscious act that took no more time nor thought than a breath. He peered through the trees, willing his enemy to reveal itself.

A single eye flared red and blue. Its glow intensified. Link snarled at the thing, willing it to attack him so his charge could escape. Anything was worth that. Anything.

Blue light erupted from the eye, and Link had only a split second to meet it with his blade.

The light rebounded back to its source. The Guardian's eye burst in a flash of fire that immediately hissed in the rain. The six-legged machine toppled backward off the rock where it had perched itself. Its vantage point had been perfect. Its luck had not been.

Link looked down at the Sword That Seals The Darkness. To his relief, the blade's blue light flickered and died. No more Guardians were nearby, nor anything else contaminated by the Calamity's Malice.

His comfort, however, was short-lived. A third of the way down the blade - at the exact spot where the Guardian's light had met the sword - a small scorch mark surrounded an even smaller chip in the edge of the blade.

Link stared numbly at the blemish. In the five years he had borne it, the Sword That Seals The Darkness had never shown the slightest sign of imperfection. It had cut through Ganonspawn, Yiga and - most recently - Guardians without needing sharpening or even exhibiting natural rust.

Link's shock was interrupted by the sound of weeping. Weapon raised, he raced to the tree behind which he had thrust Zelda. A quick survey of the princess revealed no wound nor threat, only tears pouring down her mud-stained face. Her ceremonial white dress - the same one she had worn at Mount Lanayru - was muddied and ripped. She had discarded the golden necklace bearing the royal symbol of Hyrule some time ago, but the bracelets encircling her forearms remained. The hands beyond them now clenched the sopping wet earth, forcing mud to ooze between her once pristinely clean fingers.

"How?" Zelda pleaded without looking up. "How has it come to this?"

Link thrust his blade point first in the ground - it would warn him if more Guardians approached - and knelt, his blue eyes seeking the downcast green of the princess. For the first time since the madness had begun, he allowed himself to recall the horrors they had witnessed. The Calamity's rebirth from within the castle. The Guardians, emotionlessly turning on those they had been built to protect. King Rhoam forcefully thrusting him away in the chaos, commanding him to flee with his daughter. Castle Town, alight with the flames of its own destruction. As he, Zelda and a handful of Sheikah and Hylian warriors had fled, distant plumes of smoke began to mark the Divine Beasts' wrath upon Zora's Domain to the east and Rito Village to the west. He could only assume the same had occurred at Gerudo Town and Death Mountain.

"Zelda," Link said softly, "we must go."

The princess moved, but only to lift her gaze. Link had heard her weep before, but this was the first time he had seen it face to face. Her golden hair was dirty and unkempt, a far cry from its careful preparation just a day ago. Its ragged tresses framed a gentle face smeared with dirt and tears that left fresh tracks running from round eyes to delicate chin.

"Where would we go?" Zelda asked, seemingly without hope for an answer. "Our only chance at defeating Ganon is lost, all because I could not harness this cursed power! Everything - everything I've done up until now - it was all for nothing!"

Link recognized the despair, could see it in her eyes, hear it in her voice. For the smallest instant, the image of his blunted blade still fresh in his mind, he empathized. Since she was a child, Zelda had trained for this moment so that the ancient sealing power of Hyrulean princesses would answer her call. When the Sword had awoken and chosen Link to be its bearer, it was clear that time was drawing near. Zelda had doubled her efforts, only to find unanswered prayers and a magical void at every turn.

Now, with the moment of need finally at hand, it was certain: Hylia's power bestowed upon the royal line of Hyrule would not come. Ganon had won, and was even now spreading his Malice and destruction across Hyrule. The Sword That Seals The Darkness - the ancient weapon forged to combat him - was breaking. What remained but to accept the bitter fruits of defeat? What could he say to comfort the only one who had ever dedicated herself to her calling more than he had to his?

The Sword was still dark, but Link's gaze was drawn to it nonetheless. If anything, its flawed features shored up the brief crack in his own courage. He would not bend knee to Ganon's coming. Like his blade, he would break first.

"Goponga Village is just east of here," Link said decisively. "We will regroup with those we find there and make for Fort Hateno. We can make our stand there if we must. If not, Hateno itself will provide refuge."

Zelda, who had bowed her head in grief, once again looked up at Link. She did not seem to register his words, however. Instead, her eyes screwed shut as her face wrenched itself with grief of the soul. With a sob, the Princess of Hyrule fell toward the Hylian Champion and rested her head against his chest. Link knew then that she was no longer royalty - Zelda a girl seeking solace from the only one who could provide it then and there.

Hesitantly at first, but then as naturally as if he had done so before, Link encircled his arms around Zelda's shaking body. She buried her face in his chest, her cries muffled by the sky-blue Champion's tunic he wore. Like Zelda's dress, it was ripped, wet and muddied. He drew her close, uncaring of the mud beneath their knees or the rain that continued to pour down upon them. Disregarding the danger of discovery for a few precious moments, Hyrule's two remaining and fallen symbols of hope embraced amid the horror sweeping the land around them.

* * *

An upraised tree root caught the tip of Link's boot, causing him to pitch forward head-first into the sodden forest floor. He scrambled to his feet, wiping away dirt and leaves and tears from his face in an effort to fully regain his senses. In his mind's eye, Link could still see Zelda's anguish, could still hear the hopelessness in her voice. The image pierced him like Guardian's sword at Kakariko.

Link could only just remember the threads connecting this memory to others, but they were vague. Fleeting images of Rhoam, Guardians and even the swirling horror of Ganon flitted across his recollection. None were as clear as the scene in the woods. It stood out in sharp relief from the rest of his buried memories, like a flare of sunlight amid a leaden sky.

Why had the sealing power not come to Zelda's aid? LInk could still remember the feeling of shock that it had not. How, then, had she returned and prevented Ganon from fully unleashing himself upon Hyrule? New questions, but these carried the fresh sting and confusion of pain recalled.

The smallest stirring of sound - one not caused by rain or wind - snapped Link out of his reverie. His sword was out of its scabbard and in his hands in the blink of an eye, his gaze locked towards the noise's origin.

Cado stepped out of the woods, empty hands upraised to show he neither bore nor meant harm.

"It is I, Sir Link," the Sheikah announced formally. "You are as observant with your ears as you are with your eyes."

Link saw then that Cado was wearing Sheikah garments of the same make as the ones Impa had given him before leaving Kakariko. Like Dorian had in life, he wore a short, curved Sheikah blade at his waist and a longer version of the same weapon on his back. A small, horned bow and quiver completed his arms.

"What are you doing here?" Link asked wonderingly as he sheathed his blade. "Did Impa set you on my trail to ensure my success?"

"To a point," Cado acknowledged with small bow. "As you have no doubt seen for yourself, Ganonspawn infest these lands like a plague. I am sorry I did not found you before I did. I see you and a - friend? - have run afoul of them already."

Cado's questioning expression was directed toward the still-unconscious Zora laying across Epona's back.

"She was set upon by lizalfos when I found her," he answered wearily. "I must get her to the stable. Unless you are a healer as well?"

The Sheikah strode swiftly to Epona; Link could not help but notice his nearly silent footfalls. Cado took care not to touch Mei as he carefully surveyed each of the wounds that had only half-clotted due to the downpour.

"Her wounds are too many and too deep to treat here," Cado finally said. "The stable is her best chance. This way."

With that, the Sheikah immediately turned north, his bow out and eyes searching the surrounding woods. Taking Epona's reins by the hand, Link followed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slowly but surely, Link's expanding world begins to include members of other races. Mei is just the first of many Zora to come, and so far I'm pleased with how their personalities have developed. Right away we see Mei's pride in her people and their way of life, even if that pride borders on life-threatening stubbornness. I'm really looking forward to revealing more Zora in the chapters to come.
> 
> Link's memory of Zelda and the Guardian is not a new one, but this edition includes much more than his previous recollections. I am sure other writers chose to skew these memories toward a more romantic angle. As of right now, I'm not there. We'll see if that changes. Romantic or not, their relationship is no doubt precious in a moment when all else seems lost. I can only hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> With Wetlands Stable fast approaching, don't hesitate to refresh yourself with the state of affairs there by re-reading the Book Two prologue. Link's straightforward mission is about to encounter a new set of obstacles, some old, others new. If you like what you've been reading, feel free to give that Bookmark button a click or drop a comment, even if it's just your own take on the story's most recent developments. Can't stress how grateful I am for your time. Hope life is treating you well. - MattWords


	15. Wetlands Stable

The rain slowly petered out as Cado and Link made their way through the woods, with Epona still bearing the inert Mei. Steam rose from the sodden woodland floor, while birds began chirping their respective songs as the sun reclaimed what was left of the day.

Bolstered by the stoic Sheikah’s arrival, Link followed with a renewed energy. The memory of Zelda still flashed in his mind’s eye, but it no longer weighed him down. The present task of reaching the stable -- and the Zora’s shallow breathing -- outweighed whatever bittersweet nostalgia tried to assail him.

Cado stopped just as the trees ahead began to thin. His gaze remained locked in that direction, but he spoke through his balaclava.

“We are close,” the Sheikah informed Link as he drew up alongside him. “There are patrolmen ahead. This is where I leave you.”

“Why?” Link asked in surprise. “Surely you know whom to seek here better than I?”

The Sheikah shook his head firmly. “The Zora’s presence will create enough of a stir as it is. I would not add to it with my own. As you so bluntly pointed out to Lady Impa, it was Sheikah technology that aided the Calamity’s victory a century ago. Though many no longer hold us at fault, there are enough who remember our name with curses rather than compliments -- and more of the latter the further removed they are from Kakariko. Rest assured, I will be within reach should you need me.”

Before Link had a chance to protest, Cado melted back into the forest. He had only just done so when the telltale stamping of hooves announced the presence of newcomers. Link turned to see two mounted patrolmen approach, both with horse bows nocked and drawn. Both of their faces were somewhat obscured by drawn hoods, but Link could see one was a woman, the other a man.

“Who are you?” the woman hotly demanded. “Answer quickly or be slain!”

Link raised his hands to show he meant no harm. “I am Link,” he answered loudly. “I am a traveler seeking the Wetlands Stable. My companion is in need of a good healer if one is to be found.”

Both patrolmen shifted their attention to the unconscious Zora on Epona’s back. The woman’s eyes widened, then sharpened with renewed suspicion.

“You would bring a water monster here?” she asked accusingly. “Then both of you will leave without your lives.”

Link had coiled to jump out of the way of her shaft when the woman’s companion put a restraining hand on her arm, gently forcing her to lower her bow.

“Ah, Leekah, that’s no lizardspawn, and can yeh no see he’s a Hylian?” the patrolman harshly admonished. “Put yer bow down afore yeh have innocent blood on yer hands!”

Leekah sullenly relented, clearly unconvinced. “There’s Hylians as evil as Ganonspawn about, Kazul!” she insisted. “Why is he skulking here in the forest instead of taking the road like decent travelers?”

“Because that is where my companion came by her wounds, which even now could take her life,” Link interjected sharply. “You can thank her later for the half-score she helped slay by making sure she doesn’t die now.”

Leekah’s sharp jaw dropped in astonishment, while Kazul gave a slow whistle of amazement.

“Ten lizalfos, yeh say?” he mused while glancing at the unconscious Zora once again. “Were she no already cut to ribbons, I’d say it were no more than a grand boast on yer part, lad. Leekah, didn’t Yolero say one o’ them Zora stopped by a few days gone?”

“Could be,” Leekah muttered stubbornly. “I wasn’t there. I was patrolling, making sure thieves and questionable characters weren’t taking advantage of good, honest--”

“Belay all that,” Kazul interrupted impatiently. “Yer all hot an’ bothered ‘cause the stable’s already filled to burstin’. It do no matter. They’re seekin’ refuge an’ they’ll find it here. Common’, then, Master Link. Lets get you and yer friend sorted out. The stable is no far from here. Hop on an’ well get yeh there all the faster.”

“Thank you, Master Kazul,” Link replied gratefully while mounting up behind the patrolman on his piebald mare. He kept ahold of Epona’s reins. The chestnut did not hesitate in coming up beside them.

Seeing Link and his unusual burden safely situated, the patrolmen booted their mounts quickly back the way they had come. The trees continued to thin, until Link’s nose caught the telltale whiff of woodsmoke in the air.

“Do you hail from the Hebra, Kazul?” he asked the patrolman, who glanced back with surprise at the question.

“Near enough laddie, an’ yeh must be well traveled to guess that close,” Kazul chuckled. “I’m from the Tabantha Tundra, just east o’ the Hebra. Yeh been that way, ‘ave yeh?”

Link shook his head. “I knew a friend from there with an accent very similar to your own, and a patrolman as well. Brigo, formerly of Dueling Peaks stable.”

Kazul’s barking laugh answered him.

“Brigo, that walkin’ sheep’s stomach!” he bellowed heartily. “A good man, ‘e is. But yeh say he _was_ your friend?”

“He died just three days ago,” Link admitted sadly. “He and another friend, both to save my life.”

“Yeh must be a ruddy good lad for Brigo to give up his life an’ good looks for yeh,” Kazul grunted somberly. “I’m keen to hear more about it. Nearly there, now. We’ll see if we ken ‘elp yer friend.”

Link craned to look ahead, where the Wetlands Stable rose into view. It was similar in nearly every way to Dueling Peaks. A series of wooden stalls extended from an enormous, multi-sided tent held fast by tree-sized poles and beams. Extending outward from the tent’s center pole were four wooden platforms, each bearing an enormous crossbow able to be swiveled and aimed in any direction. A low, craggy mountain reared to the north, with the Hylia River skirting to its left. It was a soothing scene -- or at least, it would have been, were it not for the biggest difference between this refuge and that at Dueling Peaks.

People. Scores of them milled agitatedly around the stable like ants upset from their mound. Despite the rain, the tent flaps were thrown wide open to allow as much room as possible to the teeming masses. Those who could not fit inside -- and Link could see that was easily the majority of those present -- had pitched their own small camps or sought shelter underneath the nearest treeline.

“Why have so many come here?” Link asked, his gaze noting various levels of despondence and despair among the refugees.

“You come from the Far East?” Leekah asked in a loudly suspicious tone from just ahead. “They’ve been pouring in the last couple weeks now, about the same time that cursed tower sprouted like a saffina in the summertime. Word is it’s Sheikah-made. If that isn’t a bad omen, I don’t what is.”

“Stow that kinda talk, lass,” Kazul admonished. “If I’ve told yeh once, I’ve told yeh a dozen times, the Sheikah are more ally than enemy. Yeh can bet they’ve a hand in this stable still standin’ despite all the lizardspawn in the wetlands yonder.”

Recalling Cado’s words, Link kept silent. As it was, Mei needed help more than the Sheikah’s reputation. The Zora’s green skin was paling due to loss of blood.

“You said we might find a healer?” Link asked proddingly.

Kazul nodded. “Aye, but we’ll have a time getting into that lot to find ‘im. Git yerself down and gimme a tick.”

Link dismounted as he had been told while Kazul intently scanned the crowd. Most of the nearby Hylians were now glancing askance at Epona and her odd cargo, some beginning to point and whisper to their neighbors. Link ignored them, not wanting to add more fuel to a this powder keg of fear and uncertainty.

“Oi! Rik!” Kazul called out gruffly from his saddle. “Fetch Yolero and Spoone, sharp now! Don’t ask me barmy questions, just get to it, lad!”

An armed patrolman acknowledged him with a wave and plunged roughly into the overflowing stable. Kazul booted his mount back toward Link, while Leekah remained somewhat apart but close enough to make it clear she did still did not trust the newcomers. Kazul noticed.

“Get on wi’ yeh, lass!” he barked. “I’ve got an eye on ‘im. Aye, an’ so do some ten score others! Get on wi’ yer patrol!”

Leekah glared at the elder patrolman, but his fiercely bearded face brooked no argument. A handful of refugees scattered as she angrily wheeled her horse about and rode north. Kazul relaxed and shook his head.

“She’s got a way wi’ a horse an’ spear, but that temper o’ hers’ll get her in hotter water than mine before long,” the patrolman sighed.

“Sometimes hot water has a way of cooling the hot-headed,” Link remarked without thinking, causing Kazul to looked at him appraisingly.

“Yer mighty young to be spoutin’ such wisdom,” the patrolman observed. “Between that an’ the lizardspawn yeh say yeh slew, ‘tis easy to see why Brigo took a shine to yeh, lad.”

Link shifted uncomfortably under the praise. “He was a good friend,” was all he could think to say. That earned another thoughtful look, but it was cut short by a extremely loud and irritated voice bawling out over the general hubbub.

“Out of the way, out of the way! For Hylia’s sake, if you have business at the stable, speak with Master Lawden, otherwise get back and let others pass! ”

The crowd reluctantly to allowed the speaker through, though not unsolicited. Several tried to stop the short, frazzled-looking man with questions or requests. He simply repeated his mandate while adjusting his hat, which was shaped exactly like the many-sided tent making up the majority of the stable.

He finally emerged into the small clearing Link and Kazul’s horses had carved out at the edge of the crowd. The stable equerry’s eyes were bloodshot and framed by dark circles betraying recent lack of sleep. An unintentional attempt at a beard emphasized his exhausted appearance, as did his very wrinkled clothes.

“Kazul!” the equerry exclaimed. “What’s wrong? You know that if it’s serious to tell me away from all these… _guests_.”

With a snort that reminded Link very much of Brigo, the patrolman pointed impatiently to the still-unconscious Zora laying over Epona.

“That un’s wounded makin’ sure nothin’ serious has happened yet, Yolero!” Kazul gruffly returned. “Where’s Spoone? She needs his attention yesterday!”

To Link’s surprise, Yolero’s eyes widened in anger.

“I told those Zora to stay by the river!” the equerry protested. “Why did you bring one here for gawking and gossiping?”

Indeed, with Yolero’s presence drawing even more attention to the newcomers, Mei’s wounded form was fast becoming the object of everyone’s eyes and mouths. Surprised by the equerry’s attitude and desperate to resolve the situation quickly, Link decided to take matters into his own hands.

“Please, Master Yolero, where is Spoone, or anyone who can tend this creature?” he interrupted. “She cannot survive these wounds much longer, wounds she did indeed earn protecting the path that leads to your stable.”

Yolero gave the ailing Zora no more than a glance before answering.

“As luck would have it, Spoone is tending the rest of her kind at the river right now,” the equerry answered briskly. “It seems they also ran afoul of the beasts. Now please, take _this_ one _there_ so these people don’t begin to wonder why she’s been ripped to ribbons!”

“Yer a ruddy charmer, yeh are,” Kazul muttered as he began maneuvering his mount west toward the river. “Common, then, Master Link, let’s get yer friend straightened out. The riverbank ain’t far.”

Link immediately swung up onto the patrolman’s mount, still leading gripping Epona’s reins to lead both steed and cargo.

“I feel no satisfaction in saying so,” Link admitted quietly as they set off under curious observation from the tightly packed onlookers, “but I am surprised at your equerry’s behavior. He seems more annoyed than engaged with the needs that lay before him.”

“As well you might,” Kazul replied casually, “if yeh’d only been at the task fer a half-moon. Yolero’s the newest and youngest equerry in Hyrule, least that we know of. Contact with the other stables has lessened of late, mind yeh. Our old equerry was slain two weeks ago. Young Yolero got the job just as everythin’ went to hell.”

“I misspoke, then,” Link admitted sincerely they approached a rise in the ground. “Even had he been here a decade, I would not envy the task he has now. Perhaps you can enlighten me on something else. I was under the impression Zora’s Domain lay relatively near here. Is it so rare for these people to see a Zora?”

“Fish keep to the water, don’t they?” Kazul replied over his shoulder. “Even before everythin’ went barmy, the wetlands still had its fair share o’ Ganonspawn. Hylians don’t go near ‘em if they don’t have to, and the Zora allus travel by water afore land. The Woodland Stable used to see their fair o’ Zora, though.”

“Used to?” Link inquired.

“Aye,” Kazul nodded sadly. “Afore it was sacked last week. Not a stick left that wasn’t burnt or broken. Why do yeh think we got all these refugees, lad? Most of ‘em farmed within the Woodland’s patrols. They don’t dare stay home without that, ‘specially not now.”

Link’s stomach lurched. He had learned from Brigo that Ganonspawn would not attack stables or settlements unless gathered in great numbers and goaded by some driving force. He had seen firsthand how well a stable could turn back even a considerable assault. What was out there wreaking the kind of chaos patrolman had described?

“That’s why with some o’ them Zora hurt fresh, Yolero does no want them near the stable,” Kazul continued. “Got nothin’ against the fish. ‘E’s just tryin’ to avoid a panic, in case the refugees think that army o’ Ganonspawn is on its way. Most of ‘em think it already, but Yolero does no want them to have a _reason_ to think it. ‘E’s a bit fussy, but ‘is heart’s in the right place. Hush now, we’re about there.”

Mentally storing away these alarming developments, Link looked up to see they had arrived at the edge of a rise preceding the riverbank. The slope down was steep, but the bank itself wide enough for a small encampment -- which is what he beheld.

Along the water’s edge and loosely surrounding one lone fire were gathered a dozen Zora. Their rubbery skin ranged in color from shiny black to creamy white and nearly every shade between. Nearly half were females who, like Mei, bore gentle curves covered in gracefully crafted breastplates. The males were broad and muscular through the shoulders, which were covered by pauldrons of silvery metal. All of them looked nearly human save for fins and the fish-like crowns from which one long dorsal fin hung in place of hair.

The four Zora actively keeping watch wielded variations of beautifully curved spears. The others appeared to be resting, eating or nursing wounds of their own. One of the guards, an ebony-skinned male with blue-and-gold fins, caught sight of Kazul and Link -- and Mei.

“Mei?!” he shrieked. Once his yellow eyes and vertical pupils confirmed his suspicions, the Zora raced forward, spear upraised. “What have you done to her?! I’ll kill you, Hylian dogs!”

Half of the Zora shouted after their enraged companion, while the other half gathered their weapons and appeared on the verge of joining him. Alarmed, Kazul reached for the sword sheathed at his hip.

Thinking quickly, Link dismounted, whipped out his Sheikah slate and pressed the stasis rune. In a flash of yellow light, the charging Zora was frozen in mid-stride.

“We mean no harm!” Link bellowed sharply. “Mei was wounded fighting Ganonspawn! She needs help. Is there a Hylian healer here?”

The combination of the slate’s power, combined with Link’s declaration, completely severed the nearly catastrophic commotion. The resulting silence was deafening until a clipped voice rang from the riverbank.

“Well done, that! I was afraid you chaps were going to make a right mess.”

A lone Hylian strode quickly from behind the now stunned Zoras. His wavy blonde hair was immaculately combed over to one side and matched by an equally blonde and curved mustache. A merry twinkle gleamed in his bright blue eyes. An overly large brown satchel, which bulged in several different places, hung over his right shoulder.

“Ah!” he exclaimed happily. “Another marvelous Zora in need of my assistance! I shall be happy to render my services, but perhaps you lot should make quite sure your friend there is quite restrained before he -- wakes up? Forgive me, but I honestly haven’t the foggiest idea as to what you did to him.”

Indeed, the yellow light surrounding the frontrunning Zora was blinking faster by the second. Picking up on the odd man’s suggestion, a male and female wrapped their arms around their companion just before the stasis spell dissipated. The black-skinned Zora surged forward as though his momentum had not been stopped at all, but he was quickly brought to the ground.

“They are friends Fronk!” the blue-skinned male holding him down gasped. “It was Ganonspawn that harmed your mate, not them!”

Heaving from emotion and exertion alike, Fronk stayed down until he had calmed himself to his friends’ satisfaction. The Zora got to his fins slowly, his companions carefully watching him on the off-chance he was merely masking his anger. He was not.

“I am sorry, friends, and to you, good sirs,” Fronk said finally before turning his gaze to Mei, who was being gently lowered by a pair of Zora to the ground for the odd Hylian to examine. “I was mad with worry over my Mei. She is the current in which my heart swims, and I would drown without her. Will she… will she live, Master Spoone?”

The Hylian did not answer the Zora’s plea immediately, as he was already in the midst of digging out various flasks, herbs and bandages from his satchel. He uncorked one large bottle and began depositing several drops over each wound before replying.

“Only just, Master Fronk, only just,” Spoone informed him matter-of-factly. “Had Master Kazul and his friend arrived any later, she could very well be gone. Luckily for her -- and for you, of course -- she will survive these frightful scratches. Yes, indeed she will.”

Fronk sunk to his knees in overwhelming relief, where the two Zora who had initially restrained him now patted him consolingly. Satisfied that Mei was in good hands, Link approached her mate.

“As your friends said, lizardspawn set upon Mei,” Link said quietly. “She had already done you and your people proud before I lent what aid I could.”

Fronk looked up at this. Now that he was very close to a conscious Zora, Link was reminded of the vast differences between his people and theirs. Even on his knees, Fronk was still the taller of the two. Judging by his companions, such size was normal among the Zora; they could easily match a Moblin inch-for-inch and pound-for-pound. His yellow eyes watered with unshed tears.

“Not only do you bring my Mei back to me, but you are the reason she is alive to being with?” Fronk exclaimed. “Truly I am in your debt, good sir!”

To Link’s utter embarrassment, the Zora took to one knee and bowed his head before him.

“By fin, fish and freshwater, I pledge my life and energies to repay the gift you have given me this day Sir…” Fronk looked up in momentary confusion. “Forgive me, but I do not yet know the name of my wife’s rescuer!”

“Link,” he muttered awkwardly.

“Link!” Fronk resumed earnestly. “By my honor as a Zora, I pledge that this debt will be repaid!”

“Your name is Link?”

The question came from another ebony-skinned Zora male nearer the bank. He was even larger than Fronk, and he carried a long spear tipped with a crescent-shaped head. The Zora’s question carried a sharpness, and the expression accompanying it was none too friendly.

“It is,” Link answered carefully before deflecting the conversation back to the kneeling Zora before him. “I assure you such a pledge is unnecessary, Fronk. Anyone of able body and means would have done the same.”

“Bravery and humility to match!” Fronk cried. “You are a breath of fresh water compared to these woebegone stablemen! No offense, good sir, I did not mean you, necessarily…”

Kazul waved off the Zora’s faltering apology. “Yer not wrong about us bein’ woebegone, lad,” the patrolman admitted good-naturedly. “Bear in mind, I think we’ve earned it o’er the last fortnight. Speakin’ o’ which, it’s time fer me to be gettin’ back. Link, t’was a pleasure meetin’ yeh. I ‘ope twon’t be the last time.”

Link shook grasped the Kazul’s forearm warmly in reply. “I hope so too, Kazul. You do well by your countrymen. They are blessed to have you among them.”

Stroking his beard with embarrassed pleasure at the compliment, Kazul turned his mount back toward the stable.

“I ken see why Brigo liked yeh!” he shouted over his shoulder. “He probably ate up yer bonnie words as fast and often as a good meal!”

The comment made Link smile in fond memory of his friend. His brief nostalgia was cut short, however, by Fronk’s exuberant voice carrying from group of Zora clustered around the fire.

“Mei, you’re awake!” Fronk rejoiced as he knelt next to his mate. “How are you, my dear?”

The others gave way as Link approached to see the wounded Zora reunited with Fronk. Wrappings and bandages swathed several patches of her rubbery skin, including a sizeable one on her fish-like crown. She was smiled, however, at her enthusiastically relieved mate.

“I am well, current of my heart,” Mei replied fondly. “Though I would not be were it not for the Hylian who saved me. Is he still here?”

“I am here, Mei, walker of waters and fisher of the deep currents,” Link offered with a small smile.

“Oh dear!” the Zora moaned while covering her face with an uninjured hand. “I am afraid my water debt runs deep with you… Link, was it? After you fend off half a score of lizardscum, I had the temerity to give in to pride instead of accepting your help! Please forgive me!”

“There is nothing to forgive,” Link returned with a raised hand to forestall her apology. “I know little of your people, and could very well have offended you without knowing.”

“Ten lizalfos!” Fronk exclaimed as he looked excitedly from his wife to Link. “Why, even Prince Sidon himself would be hard-pressed to fight off so many! My dear, even in your pride, you may have found the one to save our people!”


	16. Hope and Hatred

Link stared into the fire, its light playing off his blue eyes as the last threads of dusk faded from the western sky. Other than the ever-present lapping of running water, silence hovered over the riverbank. Even the hubbub from the nearby stable had died down, most of the relocated Hylians having decided to sleep off their needs until the morrow.

Six Zora sat on the side of the fire opposite Link and Spoone. The flames were being kept as low as possible both to avoid attention and to accommodate the Zora’s extreme sensitivity to heat. It was only when Mei walked straight into the river, submerged to her eyes and fell asleep that Link truly appreciated the difference between his race and theirs -- and the importance of their plea.

Link had listened intently as Fronk explained the Zora’s plight and their need for a Hylian’s help. He had been forced to interrupt, however, when an unexpected detail surfaced in the telling.

“Wait,” Link had interjected. “What do you mean your king _remembered_ the Divine Beast’s weakness? Did it threaten you before now?”

Halted in mid-sentence, Fronk looked momentarily confused at the oddity of Link’s question. “Only during The Great Calamity,” the Zora explained as one does to a forgetful child. “But Vah Ruta relented of her own accord and slept in the east reservoir. I remember being very frightened of it until my parents assured me the Calamity had passed and Hylia had healed Ruta’s spirit.”

“You’re saying you were _alive_ when the Calamity occured?” Link asked incredulously. A sea of blankly staring yellow eyes answered him.

“Why… yes,” Fronk responded, this time quite bewildered. “Many of us were, or were born shortly thereafter. I know our interactions with Hylians have lessened considerably since then, but I thought it was common knowledge that we Zora aged much more slowly. Perhaps you have never journeyed this close to the Domain before?”

“I have often marveled at the Zora’s longevity,” Spoone had offered enthusiastically. “I do wonder if it is not a byproduct of living so much of your lives in the water compared to Hylians. It would explain why we feel refreshed after a good dip, wouldn’t it?”

Link was grateful for the healer’s interruption, as it blunted the surprise his ignorance had caused. He did not, however, miss an extremely suspicious glance from one of the Zora -- Bazz, the ebony-skinned male that had found his name so interesting earlier that evening.

Now Link thought he understood why, and the understanding alarmed him. Neither Fronk nor his companions looked especially old, yet they clearly remembered the Calamity. Would more elderly Zora recognize him as the Hylian Champion? Would that fact or his mission with Ruta be opposed by those who truly remembered him?

Deciding that announcing his true identity would be foolish before knowing everything he could, Link had kept silent on the matter and returned his focus to the Zora’s quest. He paid rapt attention as Fronk recounted their briefly successful attempt to use shock arrows -- and the threat those same arrows posed to their own people.

“Thus you see our dire need for a Hylian as brave as yourself, Master Link,” Fronk passionately concluded. “If you were to calm Vah Ruta, the waters that even now threaten to breach the reservoir and flood this land would be halted. Your people -- and mine -- would be saved and indebted to you. Will you help us?”

Link deliberately took his time to answer. He was hesitant to reveal that the Zora’s need coincided so conveniently with his own quest. If Bazz was any indication, there would undoubtedly be some -- perhaps many -- who would object to his help. His true mission would need to be revealed at some point, perhaps soon, but he would wait as long as he could to disclose it.

Finally, Link looked up and met the Zora’s hopeful gaze across the low-burning fire.

“I will help your people, Fronk,” Link confirmed steadily. “Whatever aid I can lend, it is yours.”

The enthusiastic Zora clapped in delight while smiles broke out among his companions -- save for Bazz, whose mouth twisted in distaste.

“Thank you, Master Link!” Fronk cried. “On behalf of my people, thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“How is this Hylian -- a Hylian we’ve only just met, mind you -- to aid us when his path to Zora’s Domain is dammed by lizardscum?”

Bazz’s demand rent through the soft excitement like a cloth ripped in two. Each of the Zora looked at him in shock, none more so than Fronk.

“Does a razorclaw have you by the dorsal fin, brother?” Fronk asked incredulously. “This man saved my Mei’s life and has offered to help our people, yet you speak of him as though he were a swindler come to offer us acorns for opals!”

The harsh-faced Zora stood up irritably at his companion’s words while ignoring the others’ stern nods of agreement.

“Let us hope, Fronk, that this _Link_ has indeed earned the trust you are so willing to grant him,” Bazz snapped. Without further explanation, the surly Zora turned and made his way into the river to submerge himself for sleep.

The remaining four Zora were clearly nonplussed at Bazz’s outburst, but Link kept his expression decidedly neutral. Spoone, however, broke the silence through the pipe he had removed from his satchel and was now smoking.

“His manners need his mother’s attention, but your friend does bring up a good point,” the healer observed. “How do you plan on traversing the wetlands, overgrown as they are with lizardscum?”

Link looked over his shoulder. The top-most portion of the Sheikah tower to the east glowed bright orange in the night. If the wetlands were as overwhelmed as Bazz and Spoone had said, reaching the tower for the sake of his Sheikah map was foolhardy at best.

“I cannot cut through an army of Ganonspawn myself, nor would I risk your own lives in such an endeavor,” Link finally answered, looking at each of the group in turn. “You did not seek to aid your people only to die at your search’s end. I will go to Zora’s Domain, but you will know the safest path far better than I.”

For answer, Fronk knelt and began tracing a finger through the bank sand to illustrate his explanation.

“We circled the wetlands from the north, but we did so with the aid of the Hylia River,” the Zora explained. “We are swimmers born, but even we cannot bear you against the full might of the Hylia, and it would take much longer for you to reach Thims Bridge on foot.”

“And it would be more dangerous,” Spoone added with a puff from his pipe. “The Thims lies close to the Woodland Stable, which as you know is now ashes and dust. The Ganonspawn responsible for destroying the place could still be nearby.”

“It is not around the Ganonspawn you must go, but through them.”

The Zora whirled about in surprise, several of them with spears upraised. Link, however, smiled quietly as Cado entered the fire’s muted glow. He had known the Sheikah was there, that he had slowly crept within earshot of them during their council, but Link had decided to keep that awareness on a need-to-know basis.

“Be still, friends,” Link said calmingly. “Cado is a Sheikah and a friend. I am sure he will explain himself promptly.”

Cado bowed toward the company. The Sheikah warrior had doffed his balaclava, leaving his scarred and weathered face exposed. His dark eyes nearly absorbed the modest firelight, while his silver-white hair bun seemed to reflect it.

“I will indeed,” Cado agreed. “Honored Zora, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. May the waters carry you safely home.”

If Link had not already put the Zoras’ minds at ease, Cado’s words certainly did the trick. Smiles of surprised pleasure bloomed on their faces, and Fronk went as far as to stand and shake the Sheikah’s hand enthusiastically.

“Oh, I say, you are truly welcome among us, friend Sheikah,” Fronk said warmly. “Your skills and sword are certainly honored additions to our company!”

Spoone was hardly behind the Zora in greeting the newcomer; the Hylian doctor rushed in to heartily clasp Cado’s hand.

“I have always been fascinated by the Sheikah,” the healer gushed. “I would be delighted to discuss the methods by which your elders reach the age they do, and how your warriors are healed from the most frightful of wounds!”

“I am sure you are, but now is not the time, Master Spoone,” Link prodded him gently.

“Oh! Oh, yes of course. Please be seated Master Cado.”

Returning the salutations as formally as his people did everything else, Cado removed the swords from his back and side so he could kneel next to the crude sand drawing.

“I am grateful the Zora do not remember us as enemies,” Cado admitted as he began tracing to the right of Fronk’s original work. “It seems King Dorephan continues to lead his people with the wisdom by which Hylia deemed him worthy of the throne. This is a good sign for what is to come.”

Link did not miss the ever-so-slight glance from the Sheikah before tracing a large, uneven oval to the right of the path Fronk had sketched.

“What the Zora and healer have said is true, Link,” Cado began. “Time is of the essence, and you cannot hope to earn its blessing by taking the northern path to the Thims. My scouts tell me that land is indeed crawling with Ganonspawn that even now move to join their brethren here.”

The Zoras eyes widened in alarm.

“Must we meet them in battle first?” Fronk demanded. “Dare we ignore them long enough to attend to Vah Ruta?”

“One battle at a time, friend Zora,” Cado responded calmly while tracing still more in the sand. “An army can be stalled, harried and held at bay. The waters raining from Vah Ruta cannot. If the reservoir breaks, everything from Zora’s Domain to Hyrule Castle will flood. With all the survivors along the River Hylia now gathered at the stable -- and in that flood’s path -- Ganon’s trap is well set.”

A somber silence set in as each of them visualized the truth of the Sheikah’s pronouncement.

“This,” Cado continued while pointing to the smaller oval within the larger, “is Mercay, the northernmost island of the Lanayru Wetlands. The water separating it from the land on which we now sit is forded and can be easily crossed on foot. Mercay’s eastern waters are much deeper -- they are where the Zora River meets the Hylia -- but it should be possible to cross with a Zora’s aid.”

“You would have him traverse the wetlands themselves?” Fronk asked with a frown while studying Cado’s route. “Though most of the lizardscum remain cloistered south of Mercay, some of them surely remain watching for my water brethren to enter the Hylia. How does Master Link plan to reach the island -- much less cross it -- without being seen?”

But Link knew the answer even before Cado revealed a portion of it.

“Stealth will be his ally,” the Sheikah replied, his nearly black eyes looking steadfastly at Link. “Stealth and the night, for lizalfos are at their most active by day. He will make his way to Mercay through the Moor Garrison ruins, which offer him cover right up to the ford. After that, the hill that makes up the majority of Mercay should conceal him from lizalfos to the south. He need only slip past those on Mercay’s northern side to reach whomever of you is to take him across the water.”

“A bold plan, but a necessary one,” Link observed approvingly. “I am willing, but I will not ask one of you to risk yourselves at the river for my sake. If necessary, I will find my own way to cross.”

Fronk’s webbed hand gripped Link’s shoulder heartily. “We chose to join our Prince Sidon in finding a Hylian to help us. Now that we have found him, we will do our utmost to see him safely to the Domain. I will carry the honor of your safe arrival, Master Link. At the moon’s peak tomorrow night, I will find you at Mercay’s eastern side.”

“And what of the rest of us?” a young, green-skinned Zora asked eagerly.

“You and the others will leave at daybreak,” Fronk promptly replied. “Gather any of our brethren you find along the Hylia and then seek out Prince Sidon. I will take Master Link to the north side of the Zora River’s mouth. His Highness and our water brethren must be ready to cover our escape should we be discovered.”

“Then it is settled,” Link affirmed before turning to Cado. “Will you journey with us then? Two Hylians may stand a better chance against Vah Ruta than one.”

“I will accompany you as far as Mercay,” Cado said, shaking his head. “An extra blade and pair of eyes in the dark will help ensure all goes well. After that, I must help my people do what they can against the gathering Ganonspawn. With Hylia’s help, we can slow them enough until the Zora are free to join us.”

Link grasped the Sheikah’s forearm in farewell. “You are a good man, Cado,” he said quietly. “I will see you tomorrow night.”

Cado bowed toward the Zora and Spoone, then retreated into the darkness. Fronk cocked his head to the side for a moment, then shook his head in admiration.

“Not a sound!” the Zora said admiringly. “He could catch a stealthfin unawares, that one. Link, on behalf of my people, I cannot thank you enough. We are indebted for the dangers you brave on our behalf.”

Link glanced once more to the east, where the Sheikah tower shone like a beacon of safety on the other side of the wetlands.

“Thank me after the deed, friend Fronk,” Link said. “Until then, may Hylia go with us.”

 

* * *

 

Bazz took care to remain as still as possible while floating in the small river inlet. His body would have unconsciously done as much in sleep, but raw emotion made that impossible on this night. He floated among his slumbering water brethren while heatedly reviewing the night’s events.

Bazz had owned extraordinary hearing even as a calf, a gift that helped him become one of the best fishers and warriors in Zora’s Domain. He was grateful for that advantage now, for it allowed him to listen to his brethren’s conversation with the Hylian filth. Despite his position as a captain of the Domain’s guard, Bazz had not wanted to aid Prince Sidon in his quest. Hylians had been trusted to defend his people once. They had failed them, to the ruin of nearly all his people held dear.

His father knew this better than most. Bazz had grown up admiring a very specific decoration hung for all to see: a trident with diamonds and rubies artfully embellishing its silver staff, which was topped by three beautifully curved prongs...

 

> Bazz propelled his tiny body from the entrance pool of his home to the stone couch along the far wall. He imagined himself accomplishing the feat as well as Prince Sidon, who was nearly twice his age. Bazz badly wanted the elders to talk of him the same way they spoke of the prince.
> 
> “He’s the best swimmer since a young Seggin!” they would exclaim excitedly among themselves. “He will do the Zora proud when he is grown!”
> 
> Bazz wanted to do his people proud, too, but none more so than his father, the Great Demon Sergeant. Just that day, Seggin and his son had watched Trello, another respected elder, remove the fabulous trident from its brackets on the throne room wall and use it in a solemn show of unrivaled skill for the Champion Festival. Bazz had snuck in front of the adult Zoras to watch his father’s friend wield the long weapon by the rare light of fire set up solely for this ceremony. Bazz did not understand why many of the elders wept over something so awe-inspiring.
> 
> Bazz was not nearly old enough to wield his own spear, but he had a thin piece of driftwood that served just as well. Instead of the stone couch, he fancied he was at the high banks of the Zora River, fighting off a horde of monstrous lizalfos that threatened his beloved Domain. Each of the imaginary beasts fell with satisfying hisses as they were run through with his “spearpoint.”
> 
> As he turned to slay another imaginary lizalfo that had dared to sneak up on him from the rear, Seggin gracefully leaped out of the entrance pool and onto the floor. The young Zora immediately dropped his “weapon” and ran to give his father a tight hug around his knees.
> 
> “Father!” Bazz cried. “Wasn’t the festival wonderful? Elder Trello is the most skilled spearfish of the Domain, after you of course!”
> 
> Seggin smiled down broadly at his enthusiastic offspring.
> 
> “Thank you, my son,” the ebony-skinned father said while affectionately rubbing Bazz’s small headtail. “Have you been fighting off Ganonspawn again?”
> 
> Bazz nodded vigorously in reply. “Oh yes! I will be a brave warrior just like you, and then I will earn a wonderful trident just like Elder Trello!”
> 
> To the youngster’s surprise, Seggin’s face fell. He swallowed visibly, then sat down somewhat suddenly on the couch. The adult Zora took his time to gather his emotions, then looked very hard at his son. Finally, he motioned for Bazz to sit beside him.
> 
> “Trello did not win that weapon, my son,” Seggin began after the young calf had willingly clambered up next to him. “It was made to remember our dear late Princess Mipha, whom Hylia graced with the power to heal both body and soul. It is because of her that I -- and many of my water brethren -- survived wounds that would otherwise have claimed our lives. Her magic healed us, and her kindness blessed all who met her.”
> 
> “What happened to her?” Bazz asked, his yellow eyes now wide with curious fascination.
> 
>   
>  Seggin seemed to consider his young son for another moment before arriving at a decision.
> 
> “Come with me, my son.”
> 
> Bazz was nonplussed to see his father reapproach the entrance pool, which was now completely black compared to the clear blue it was during broad daylight. Many were the times Bazz’s tailfin had been tanned for trying to sneak out and swim at night. Now, the thrill of doing so at his father’s invitation sent his heart racing in anticipation of the unknown.
> 
> Bull and calf swam together through the small tunnel that opened up into the great bowl of water from which Zora’s Domain rose. Son followed father to the surface, then up the Zora-built waterfalls that cascaded from the Domain’s main level. They were the only ones up and about. Unlike Hylians, who fritter away the night in a vain attempt to more fully live out their much shorter lives, the Zora used the night as it was intended: for sleeping. Even at the tender age of twenty, Bazz understood this, which was what made his father’s actions so peculiar and slightly frightening. What was it he must see at this hour?
> 
> The sound of the two Zoras’ feet slapping the silver-and-turquoise floor echoed faintly. The soothing light from carved and crushed luminous stone -- which was worked into most of the Domain’s architecture -- softly illuminated their beloved Domain. Bazz had never been allowed to walk his people’s majestic streets this late before, and he felt the simple stirrings of pride within him. Of all the wonders of Hyrule, surely this was the one with which Hylia was most pleased.
> 
> On they walked until they reached the central plaza, where full-grown father and diminutive son approached one of the newer additions to the Domain. From the center of a circular fountain rose a statue lovingly carved from the same combination of metal and stone that made up the rest of the Zoras’ home. In perfect detail, the masterpiece depicted a small, female Zora holding a trident much longer than herself. She held the weapon with the tines pointed down, her heart-shaped face smiling kindly downward.
> 
> In silence, Bazz and his father beheld the wondrous piece of art with only the gentle lapping of the fountain’s water disturbing the night’s silence. Finally, Seggin knelt and tremulously looked at his son. Bazz could not help but notice tears shimmering in his father’s eyes, and it frightened him.
> 
> “My son,” his father began in a voice that sounded very different from the confident tones Bazz was used to hearing, “you know who this is, don’t you?”
> 
> Confident in the lessons he had learned from his elders, Bazz answered promptly. “Her Highness, the late Princess Mipha, who healed those of ailing bodies and broken hearts, the Champion of the Zora whose life was given while fighting The Great Calamity a quarter century ago.”
> 
> Seggin smiled tremulously at his son’s ready answer.
> 
> “Indeed she is, my son,” he said with an approving nod. “So you have been taught, and all that is true. But you have _not_ been taught the whole truth.”
> 
> Bazz felt a rush of adrenaline at this surprise. What secret knowledge would his father impart regarding the fabled princess?
> 
> “Princess Mipha, may Hylia guard her spirit, did fall to The Calamity, but it was a fate she need not have suffered were it not for the Hylians who betrayed her.”
> 
> Bazz’s eyes grew wide. His father no longer appeared sad. He looked angry, far angrier than when he had found his son had strayed all the way to Ruto Lake without consent the previous year.
> 
> “How did they betray her, father?” Bazz whispered with the innocent fright children often feel.
> 
> “Had they kept their part of the bargain, Lady Mipha would not have been left to be consumed by The Divine Beast,” Seggin answered in a much fiercer whisper than his son’s. Spittle began to form at the edges of the Demon Sergeant’s mouth as he tried to keep his rage contained. “Had they sealed away the Calamity as they had promised, had they not left her to face its backblast alone, our princess would be with us in life instead of the dead metal and stone you see before you. They failed her and the Zora, and the hearts of our people pay the price for that failure even now.”
> 
> “Why would they do that?” Bazz nearly squeaked with frightened curiosity. “Who betrayed her, father?”
> 
> “They do not teach you the traitors’ names because our king does not wish to harbor ill will toward anyone,” Seggin spat. “He is noble and good, but by choosing to forget our past he may doom us to repeat it. I will not make the same mistake with you, my son.”
> 
> Seggin took his son’s face in his hands, the small claws on his fingers digging painfully into his childish face. Bazz winced, but he could not look away from his father’s manic gaze.
> 
> “You must always remember that it was the Hylians who betrayed us,” Seggin said hoarsely. “It was Princess Zelda and her Champion, Link of Hyrule, who betrayed our Mipha to her death. Never forget that my son. Never forget that it was the Hylians who doomed our princess, who doomed all the kingdom of Hyrule. Never forget that to trust a Hylian is to court loss and grief and death.”

The smallest ripple of water stirred Bazz from his reverie, but he was subconsciously able to keep himself stationary even as the last of his water brethren entered the inlet to sleep. On the bank, he could see the Hylian swordsman and the healer settle down next to the fire for the night.

Bazz’s face twisted with an ugly grimace. Link. What foolish -- or worse, cruel -- parents would name their offspring after the Hylian Champion that had failed not only their own people, but all of Hyrule? And what evil fate had decided to offer such a man to the Zoras in their hour of need?

Seventy years had passed since his father’s lesson, but Bazz had not forgotten it. In the past, when Hylians braved the journey to Zora’s Domain to trade their goods, he had treated them with the suspicion they deserved. Some -- like Prince Sidon -- welcomed them with open arms. If Bazz had his way, he would have greeted them with a sharpened spearpoint that forced them to go right back to their land-locked hovels. That was why he had initially fought against his father’s private request to join Prince Sidon on the idiotic quest.

“Why should I help His Highness seek help from those responsible for his sister’s death?” Bazz had snapped in frustration. “You have taught me Hylians are not to be trusted!”

“Of course they aren’t, my blind son,” Seggin had replied impatiently. “That is why you will go with them! You cannot openly hinder the prince’s search, but you must know who they find and report back to me as soon as the opportunity presents itself! Many of the other elders find a Hylian’s help as distasteful as we do. If we have enough forewarning, we may be able to prevent the mistakes of a century ago from repeating themselves! Until then, you must aid our king’s wishes. Is that clear?”

Bazz had reluctantly agreed, but now that the fruits of their search were being realized, he was consumed with the urgency to warn his father. Surely the elders -- and perhaps even their king -- would not be tempted to accept the help of a Hylian named after the disgraced Champion.

If all went well, it would not matter. Perhaps their would-be savior would meet his doom crossing the wetlands.

 _And if the lizardscum won’t save my people_ , Bazz thought savagely, _I will._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even within the G-rated limits of the BOTW game, the Zora's distaste for Hylians in general and Link in particular is palpable. What would happen if that abhorrence was unleashed? We see the beginning of that answer here. The violent distrust of Seggin and other Zora will not be dismissed by simply clicking through harmless dialogue. There is a new danger for Link, here, one that will only multiply ten-fold if/when his true identity is discovered.
> 
> The stage is set for a truly epic journey to Zora's Domain, but don't get too far ahead of yourselves. A twist is coming, one that ties off a loose end from the previous book. In the meantime, if you enjoy what you've read so far, feel free to give that bookmark button a click. Don't hesitate to comment via comment with your take on where things are headed. Love hearing from you guys and I appreciate your readership. Hope life is treating you well. - MattWords


	17. Plans Gone Awry

Link woke the next morning to find Spoone as his only company on the bank. The healer was already awake and intent on repacking his satchel despite the early morning light. He noticed Link rising, however, and greeted him cheerfully.

“Slept well, did you?” asked Spoone happily. “So did I! Those Zora are jolly good at putting the old noggin at ease despite all those filthy Ganonspawn laying about. And I see our ailing Mei is well on her way to a full recovery!”

Link followed the doctor’s nodding head to the river, where most of the Zora cavorted happily among the water’s deepest and strongest currents. Mei was among them, and though wet dressing still covered the gash upon her crown, her wounds did not prevent her from merrily dunking her husband below the water’s surface.

“Extraordinarily recuperative, Zoras!” Spoone exclaimed admiringly. “Near torn to ribbons one day and playing with her water chums the next! Those wounds of hers are healing twice as fast as a Hylian’s, and that’s a fact!”

“Good to hear,” Link replied absent-mindedly while still eyeing the jovial Zoras. _Good to hear and good to know_ , he thought to himself. Depending on how many of their people remained, the Zora could very well be key in halting the evil threatening to drown Hyrule. _Hylia let it be held back long enough_.

“What was that, Master Link?”

Link shook himself out of his reverie, only then realizing he had spoken his last thought aloud.

“Nothing, Master Spoone,” Link answered with a dismissive hand. “Just talking to myself.”

Reflecting on his thoughts, however, forced Link to realize that he had privately turned to Hylia much more often -- and willingly -- since his encounter at the spring. It had not been a conscious change, but it was a change nonetheless. What was it Impa had said the first time they had spoken?

_“You are much changed from the young man I knew. We will see how much remains changed as you begin to remember who you once were.”_

Was this part of who he truly was? A man of faith as opposed to one without more than a name to his memory? How much more of himself would return, unbidden, before the end?

“I see you are deep in thought and I apologize for my intrusion, Master Link, but we must speak with you of tonight’s endeavor.”

Again, Link was brought back to the present, but this time by a Zora. Fronk’s now familiar form crouched a modest distance away so his yellow-eyed gaze could meet his own. The full contingent of Zoras, save those still keeping watch at the camp’s perimeter, had joined him. All of them were still dripping from their play in the river, but their expressions were calm and focused now. With a rueful smile, Link rose to his full height in order to allow the ebony-skinned Zora to do the same.

“No apology is necessary, friend Fronk,” Link reassured him. “Time is short, so let us not waste it.”

Smiling gratefully, Fronk nodded and motioned for his companions join him. As they gathered around him, Link noted that Bazz looked no friendlier than he had the previous night. There was no trust in the ebony Zora’s eyes, only simmering suspicion.

“We are all of us ready to leave,” Fronk began. “As I told you last night, I will find you at the eastern side of Mercay. Do you have those things you wish us to keep for you until we meet again?”

For answer, Link hefted the large, heavily tied pack Epona had carried. He had only needed to remove two small pieces of it for the time being: the small bundle of Sheikah clothes and a money bag Impa had thoughtfully included among his supplies. His cursory glance at the latter’s contents had revealed no small amount of green, blue and red rupees, with even a silver one thrown in for good measure. Link had mentally thanked the Sheikah elder; he would need to buy a good meal at the stable before setting out tonight.

“It’s not that I’m ungrateful,” Link began as he handed the pack to the young green Zora sitting next to him, “but won’t some of my supplies be useless after going underwater?”

“My husband told me we are truly strangers to you,” Mei, who stood at her husband’s right, said kindly. “When we carry stores not meant for water, we wrap them in drycloth. Rest assured that your belongings will be safe with us.”

“I thank you,” Link said gratefully while inclining his head slightly.

“It is we who thank you,” Mei returned warmly. “First you save my life, then you offer your own to my people. It is only our duty to aid you however we can.”

“Speaking of which, are you quite sure you won’t have one of us accompany you across the wetlands?” Fronk persisted. “An extra spear would surely help should the lizalfos discover you.”

“And a spear less will help make sure that doesn’t happen,” Link answered, albeit with a smile. “As Cado said last night, stealth will be my best ally. A full-grown Zora is welcome in battle, but not for remaining unseen.”

“And that,” Mei added while placing a comforting hand on her husband’s shoulder, “is why we will be ready to help you across the river as quickly as possible -- with more of us waiting to ensure your escape.”

Fronk nodded in momentary resignation, then reached out to grasp Link’s forearm.

“I will see you tonight, Link,” the Zora vowed, his yellow eyes gazing determinedly into Link’s blue. “May Hylia swim with you.”

“And with you, Fronk,” Link replied firmly.

With that, the Zora returned to the river’s edge, stopping only to ensure Link’s belongings were safely wrapped in the brown drycloth before taking to the water. In a trice they were safely hidden by the water’s depths, with nary a ripple betraying their presence.

“Well then, that’s that and the day awaits us!” Spoone declared. “I must assume, good sir, that you intend to leave your noble steed at the stable before setting out to evade the jaws of death this night?”

Link nodded. “Indeed I do, Master Spoone. That and a good meal beforehand is all that’s left to be had. I would ask you, of course, to keep the nature of tonight’s endeavor to yourself.”

“But of course, old boy!” the healer assured him enthusiastically. “Call it doctor-patient confidentiality! I’ll not breathe a word of your derring-do to a soul, on my oath as a healer I will not! I’m much too eager to see these woebegone days done with, and if my silence helps, so much the better!”

Grinning at the man’s gregarious commitment and commentary, Link mounted Epona. The chestnut mare looked no worse for wear despite the previous day’s exertions, and he patted her on her strong neck to show his appreciation for them. Epona whickered, perhaps in affectionate forgiveness for having been forced to carry a being twice the size of her owner.

Spoone, meanwhile, had mounted his own donkey that was laden with oddly shaped bags and packs. Securing his satchel around the saddle pommel, the healer pulled up alongside Link as the two began the short trek from the riverbank to the stable.

“Was that your first encounter with a Zora, Master Spoone?” Link asked with curiosity.

“Oh yes, and a jolly good encounter it was!” the healer brightly replied. “I’d studied theory on the Zora -- or _Zorana Hyrulea_ , as is their proper name -- but I’d never had the pleasure of meeting them, much less treating them. A pleasant people, I must say! And they seem to have taken quite a shine to you, I might add!”

“I suppose most of them did,” Link murmured, thinking of Bazz.

Their conversation was cut short by the appearance of two patrolmen, one of which Link recognized -- the young man whom Kazul had sent to fetch Yolero and Spoone the day before. The other was a grumpy-looking Hylian with a ragged beard, and it was he that greeted the new arrivals.

“That you Spoone?” the patrolman grunted. “You done treatin’ the fish? Some new wounded that just come in. Been lookin’ for yeh.”

The healer sighed in a long-suffering kind of way. “Zora, my dear boy. _Zora_. And yes, I have concluded my business with them. I will be happy to attend those in need of my assistance. Master Link here, of course, is already a welcome guest to the stable. I expect you to afford him every courtesy, such as it is.”

Another grunt from the patrolman greeted Spoone’s expectations, but he did not argue. He and his companion started to continue their circuit, but not before Link stopped them with a question.

“Where did the wounded come from?” Link asked. “More from the north?”

It was the younger one who shook his head in response. “The south. Word is the Riverside Stable is naught but ash.”

The elder patrolman cuffed the younger on the head. “Why you goin’ ‘round tellin’ people that!” he barked. “Gonna start a panic, you will!”

The younger patrolman ruefully rubbed his crown and shrugged in reply. “Only told a healer an’ a swordsman. Doubt they’re the type to panic. ‘Tis the farmers who needn’t know, though they’ll know soon enough.”

The two continued to argue as they made their way to the nearby woods, but Link was no longer listening. Stables to the north and south destroyed. Cado’s description of the wetlands’ plight was all too real. Ganon’s jaws were closing in from both sides of the wetlands, ready to devour the surviving Hylians and seal off Zora’s Domain in one fell blow.

“Well, I suppose I shall be rather busy over the next few days!” Spoone said bracingly. “If there’s one thing we medics appreciate, it’s steady business!”

Link issued a forced laugh at this, but it died as they came to the rise just south of the stable.

At least half as many people again as there had been the day before milled en masse around the tent. Most of them had clearly arrived in haste, their travel-worn clothes muddied and torn. It was nearly impossible to separate the cacophony of voices.

Nearly.

“Teebo!” cried a woman’s voice. “Has anyone seen my Teebo? He’s a little boy with lenses! Please, please help me find my Teebo!”

“Meghyn!” bellowed a man over the hubbub. “Are you here Meghyn? It’s me, Agus! For the love of Hylia, Meghyn, answer me!”

“Mama!” a girl’s voice sobbed through the crowd. “Mama, where are you? I can’t find my mama!”

“I say, steady on there, chap. You’ll do them no good with the old eye juice. Chin up and stiff upper lip and all that!”

The last was spoken by Spoone, and it was only then that Link realized tears were streaming down his face. He hurriedly wiped them away before the duo reached the main throng.

“Thank you, Master Spoone,” Link muttered. “I wasn’t prepared for… all this.”

The healer nodded sadly while stroking his blonde mustache. “Looks like a right mess, doesn’t it? Speaking of which, I’d best get cracking on my part to clean it up. Why don’t you see if you can cut through this lot to the stable and settle in while you can?”

Bidding Spoone a fond farewell, Link remained astride Epona to force a path through the throng. Questions rained on him from those seeking loved ones, news or reassurances. He forced himself to press on without answering. _I can do nothing for them here,_ he told himself. _Not now. Not yet._ He almost believed himself.

Finally, Link broke through to a small open area that was being painstakingly maintained by those employed by the stable itself. The series of wooden stalls appeared completely occupied by stock of various quality. Stablemen scurried to and fro on various errands, all of them directed by a portly man with only wisps of hair remaining on his large dome.

“Spinch!” he barked. “Grab another hand and fetch ten more sacks of oats! Sharp, now! Toma! Kazul’s patrolling tonight, so be sure to have his beast good and ready! Whoever’s not mucking out the stables, get on it!”

Link dismounted and approached the full-throated taskmaster, who finally noticed his new customer.

“You look a patrolman, but I don’t know you sir!” he greeted just loud enough to be heard above the surrounding din. “What can I do for you?”

“A good home for a good steed, and for a few nights at least,” Link replied as loudly as he dared.

The stableman eyed Epona thoroughly, then nodded in approval.

“Good stock, this one,” he said appraisingly. “Necludan or I’m a horse’s arse. More than a night or two’ll cost you. Twenty rupees, and more to come if you leave her here more than five days. Lean times and fat need if this gaggle of refugee geese didn’t already tell you that much.”

Link nodded in understanding while handing over a red rupee, which the stableman gave a quick cursory review before stuffing it in a bulging moneysack at his waist. Meaty hands formed a hallow around his large mouth as he called to one of his underlings.

“Teli!” he yelled. “Got a fresh one! Get her straightened out and do it right, lad!”

A tousled stableboy of no more than twelve years sprinted to take Epona, who allowed herself to be led away willingly. Link watched her go with a pang of regret. How long before he would ride her again?

Dismissing the depressing thought, Link thanked the stableman and started toward the main tent. The swirling sea of people still ebbed right up to the horse stalls, alongside which a narrow stream of stablemen ran to and fro en route to various tasks. Link shouldered his way along, feeling the collective filth and unease from the masses press up against him.

Not being overly tall, Link was forced to at least fleetingly take in the crowd through which he struggled to walk. It was the faces that struck him most. Those at Hateno had been content at happy. These were the opposite: strained, flustered and fearful most of all. The eyes were especially distinct, different in shape and color, but similar in their fatigue and fear. Round blue eyes and hooded green eyes and off-center brown eyes and narrow grey eyes and--

Screams erupted as Link whipped out the short Sheikah blade from his waist just in time to meet the half-moon blade of Garill’s sickle sword. The resounding clash of metal on metal immediately sent those nearest the combatants scrambling to get out of the way.

Garill snarled in rage and struck again, his long arm seeking to rip his weapon through Link’s throat. Again Link parried the blow with the blackened Sheikah blade, but the curved sickle hummed right back toward his middle. The man -- the Yiga -- was unbelievably fast. Sweat beaded on Link’s face as he strained to turn aside the unrelenting attack.

Garill began to spin his parried momentum into another strike. Almost of its own accord, Link’s vacant hand smoothly drew the sword sheathed on his back. He did not wait to meet the half-moon blade. The longer weapon severed Garill’s swordhand at the wrist in the blink of an eye. The Yiga shrieked in agony as his weapon -- along with most of his forearm -- fell to the ground. He dropped to his knees, clutching his bloody stump as Link held both blades against the attacker’s throat.

“Who sent you?” Link demanded coldly. His eyes were narrowed chips of blue ice, hard and unyielding. “Speak and you will have earned a quick death.”

“It is your death you have earned this day, Hylian filth!” Garill spat toward Link’s boots. “Whether it is by my blade or another’s, my master has already sealed your fate!”

Link never got a chance to reply. The wind was knocked from his body as the weight of three men bore him forward and into the ground. Another small group did the same to Garill, who snarled furiously as he tried in vain to wriggle free.

It wasn’t until he regained his breath that Link was able to crane his head enough to see a furious Yolero standing above him.

“Bloodshed!” the equerry screeched. “Chaos! When I get to the bottom of this, you will curse the day you set foot at Wetlands!”

“You don’t understand!” Link shouted desperately. “He attacked me! He’s a Yiga!”

“More idiocy!” Link could not believe the registers Yolero’s voice reached. His face was nearly purple with rage. “You claim the right to draw arms on the basis of a tale meant to frighten children! Whatever hopes you had of leaving here are now slim indeed!”

Link opened his mouth to answer the charges but again found himself painfully winded, this time by a large fist to his side. The sharp bristles of a beard raked the side of his face as a heavily accented voice whispered into his ear.

“Keep yer bloody trap shut!” Kazul whispered urgently. “We’ll find the truth o’ this soon enough, but yeh’ll do yerself no bloody favors talkin’ back now! Shaddap while we get this sorted!”

Link only just obliged, his thoughts scrabbling like a caged animal. He could not afford even half a day in justice’s confinement, no matter how well-intentioned. If he failed to cross the wetlands tonight, would the Zora think him dead? Or worse, that he had reneged on his promise? And if they believed the latter, would they ever allow him near Zora’s Domain, let alone the opportunity to board Vah Ruta?

“Take them both to the cells, and make sure that one is kept from dying!” Yolero said in an only somewhat calmer voice. He was obviously desperate to restore a modicum of peace to his stable. “Once that’s done, round up as many witnesses as possible. Hylia knows whether anyone saw what really happened, but we’ll take as long as we need.”

This did nothing to improve Link’s hopes as he was hauled to his feet. It took all his willpower to keep quiet as the patrolmen took his sword and -- more importantly -- the small bundle containing his Sheikah clothing and slate. Would they be recognized for what they were?

Link could only watch as blade, slate and bundle were carried off by an especially smug-looking Leekah. And though he felt that Kazul, at least, was still somewhat on his side, the patrolman did not spare any strong-arming while guiding him to the forest’s northern edge. Garill had apparently resigned himself to his fate, his breath hissing between his teeth as he endured the pain of his severed arm. Blood dripped steadily from a cloth that had been hastily tied around it before they were escorted away.

Trees began to obscure the midday sun. The patrolmen were not especially careful guiding Link and Garill around roots, rocks or bushes. By the time they reached their destination, both of them boasted several bruises and cuts. In a small clearing Link must have missed during his journey with Mei, a cluster of iron cages lay waiting with two more patrolmen standing guard. Two of them already bore occupants: men whose ragged clothes and thin faces forced Link to assume they were refugees whose desperation had run them afoul of the stable’s laws.

The patrolmen unceremoniously thrust the two newcomers into cages, each on the opposite side of the clearing. Again, Kazul spared no force in front of his comrades, but did manage to whisper a message while securing the lock on Link’s cage.

“I’ll get back to yeh as soon as I can, lad,” the patrolman assured him gruffly.

With that, Kazul left with his fellows, leaving Link to lean back against the bars of his cage and wonder how he could possibly reach the Zora that would be waiting for him that night.

 

* * *

 

Brushes of orange and purple streaked across the evening sky, their lights softly glancing off the trees and forest floor. A chickaloo chirruped nearby, interrupting the softly constant run of the nearby River Hylia.

The beauty of the scene was lost upon Link, whose mind had spent double its normal energy to make up for his body’s inertia. The guard had changed twice since he and Garill had been caged, but none of the patrolmen had felt the need to communicate with their prisoners. They simply kept moving on their slow circuit, clearly more concerned with potential raids from outside the camp than their charges within.

It appeared as though Yolero would keep his word concerning the thoroughness of his investigation. If there was an update to the possibility of his being freed, it had not been communicated to Link. The only new information he had obtained was what the sky told him, and right now it said his time was quickly waning.

The thought set Link’s thoughts scurrying anew for some shred of a solution. What would Fronk do when his Hylian was not waiting for him at Mercay? Would he assume Link had died trying to traverse the lizalfo-infested wetlands? Worse, would he go looking for him and meet his own doom? What of this prince of his, who was preparing to receive him?

Link could not even pace out his worry. The cage was too short for him to stand and too narrow to allow for even a full stride. He sat, unable to move or act on a night that clamored for him to do both.

Movement to the far left side of the prison camp caught Link’s eye. It appeared as though the guard would change again. Link’s heart leaped when he recognized Kazul as one of the two newcomers. The patrolmen currently on duty went to meet them, huddling to discuss only Hylia knew what.

“Hoping your friend will save you? I shouldn’t be surprised after you let your princess fight the Great Master in your stead a century ago.”

The words, shocking both in utterance and context, jolted Link out of his inward frustration. He turned to see Garill’s uneven eyes locked on him, a mocking smile playing on his face. Link felt a fury rise in him that he had not known since awakening.

“There will be no one to save you, Yiga!” Link grated, his hands twisting the unyielding metal bars in rage. “My fate lays before me, but yours is already sealed!”

“Is it?” Garill taunted, his sickening smile pressed up between the closely spaced bars of his own cage. “The rumors are true then. You remember nothing. You know nothing. You are a babe, mewling in the dark for comforting arms to hold you. Instead you will feel the embrace of death that should have been yours a century gone. I? I will be free, glorying in the age of the Demon King that has waited far too long for its coming.”

“Chopping off arms one minute and chummin’ the next?” Kazul sarcastically interrupted as he strode into the middle of the encircled cages. The patrolman casually swung his huge battle axe at Garill’s cage, causing the blade to rebound off the bars with a jarring clang. The Yiga snarled at his bearded guard but scrunched as far back into his enclosure as he could. Kazul eyed him distastefully before turning to his younger companion.

“Why don’t yeh start yer circle, lad?” the patrolman casually suggested. “Looks to meh like these two need remindin’ of the good manners we require o’ law-breakers, here.”

The younger patrolman saluted, then started towards the far side of the encampment. Kazul strolled to Link’s cage, but did not bend over to speak until his companion was out of earshot.

“I do no have good news for yeh, lad,” the patrolman informed him quickly. “Yolero’s takin’ his sweet time with this little lot, an’ he do no feel badly lettin’ yeh sweat it out here until he’s done. Best I can do fer yeh is a bite an’ a swig.”

Link gratefully accepted the loaf of bread and waterskin from the patrolman. The day’s forced inactivity had only emphasized his hunger and thirst, both of which were now at a fever pitch. Between mouthfuls, he questioned his newfound ally.

“Is there any way you could convince Yolero that I’m innocent?” Link asked. The bearded man shook his head in reply.

“I’ve nothin’ to go on with that argument, lad,” Kazul admitted. “Hylia blind me if it’s true, but are yeh sure that piece o’ work there is a Yiga?”

“He is sure, patrolman. As am I.”

Kazul whirled about, battle axe up and ready to swing, as Cado emerged from the forest’s inner depths. The Sheikah was fully clothed and armed in the manner of his people, but he raised empty hands to show he meant know harm.

“Who the devil are yeh an’ what’re yeh doin’ here?” Kazul demanded, his large arms easily wielding the axe in front of him. “Answer me quick, laddie. I’ve no patience fer playin’ peekaboo with armed intruders.”

“He is a friend, Kazul,” Link desperately explained. Cado’s arrival had sent hope, threaded with urgency, shooting through him. “More importantly, he is a Sheikah, and he knows whereof he speaks.”

To Link’s relief, Cado’s dark eyes above his balaclava did not convey anger at being thus announced. Like him, the Sheikah understood that time no longer allowed for subtlety. The patrolman, however, did not appear convinced.

“So yeh say, lad,” Kazul grunted through the side of his thick beard. “I like yeh well enough, but I can no take yeh at yer word an’ leave it at that.”

“Then turn and see for yourself, patrolman,” Cado said calmly while pointing toward Garill’s cage.

The Yiga’s oddly placed eyes were now as wide as they could go, his face drawn taut in a mask of hatred and -- was it Link’s imagination, or was Garill afraid as well?

“Sheikah cur!” the Yiga spat, flecking spittle from his mouth. “Hide in your pit of cowards and fools and ask your filthy goddess to spare your pathetic lives!”

Kazul appeared taken aback by Garill’s verbal assault. The Yiga strongly reminded Link of an animal at bay, desperately making a last stand in hopes of driving away a predator.

“Well, there’s no love last b’tween the two of yeh,” Kazul slowly remarked. “I suppose I could fetch Yolero an’ get this mess sorted out.”

“My apologies patrolman, but time is against us and I dare not let this man live a moment longer.”

Time seemed to slow down. Link saw the Sheikah smoothly unshoulder his horned bow and nock an arrow to its string. Kazul started toward Cado in some shocked attempt to stop him. Garill screamed defiantly from within his cage. A bright yellow light flared around the Yiga, accompanied by a puff of smoke and sound. Cado’s arrow pierced the cloud within the cage -- and flew unopposed through both sets of bars before thudding into the forest floor on the other side.

The pen was empty. Garill was gone.


	18. Across the Wetlands

Kazul bellowed in rage and charged at Cado. From within the cage, Link watched helplessly as the Sheikah smoothly pivoted and used his bow to trip the patrolman’s reckless attack, sending him face-first into the forest floor.

His breath driven from him, Kazul turned over to find the end of Cado’s bow nestled firmly against his throat. The Sheikah’s eyes above his balaclava were narrowed and brooked no argument as he spoke.

“Listen well, patrolman,” Cado firmly issued. “I do not wish to kill you, but I will if you attempt to delay us further. The Yiga is gone, a feat achieved only by the dark magic they possess.”

“If yeh speak true, the man could’ve escaped at any ruddy time,” Kazul tightly rasped. “Why’d he wait to scarper ‘til now?”

“Because the Yiga are not yet ready to reveal themselves to the world, otherwise he would not have appeared as a normal man,” Cado answered calmly. “I do not yet know what they plan, but rest assured it bodes ill for all. But know this: Sir Link has done and will do more to ensure your people’s survival than you can possibly know. Accept this and allow us to leave of our own free will. Or die here. The choice is yours.”

Only then did Cado ease the bow end from the patrolman’s throat. Kazul stood slowly, brushing the dirt and leaves from his clothes before addressing the Sheikah.

“I do no believe the lad to be a criminal, but it’s a fine pickle yeh leave me in,” Kazul admitted. “What do I tell the equerry when ‘e finds both prisoners gone an’ me still alive?”

“The truth,” Cado responded readily. “The Sheikah came for both prisoners. One escaped while you tried to stop them. The other was taken. In such times, one more unpopular opinion harms my people little.”

The patrolman nodded thoughtfully as he made his way toward Link’s cage, hands fingering the keys looped about his belt. Then he stopped, his eyes wide with alarm.

“Oi, what did yeh do wi’ the other patrolman?” Kazul demanded. “If yeh killed him, one o’ us’ll be decoratin’ this here forest wi’ his corpse afore I open this cage.”

“Your friend is unconscious, but alive,” Cado replied with a small gesture toward the woods behind him. “He will awake within the hour.”

Shaking his head at this casually delivered information, Kazul knelt and unlocked the cage door. Link’s muscles ached in relief as he climbed out and stretched for the first time in hours. Though he was grateful for Cado’s ultimately necessary interference, he felt it necessary to smooth things over with the patrolman first.

“I don’t know what to say, Kazul,” Link began. “I wish I could tell you why I must go. All I can say is that my task is the same for which Brigo gave his life.  For now, I hope that is enough.”

Kazul stroked his beard as he considered the weight of Link’s words.

“Like I told yeh before, Brig was a good ‘un,” the patrolman grunted. “I hope yeh can explain yerself proper someday, lad. Until then, may Hylia guard yer steps.”

“I will,” Link assured as he clasped Kazul’s forearm. “In the meantime, do what you can to keep your stable safe. I fear the refugees portend what is to come. May Hylia keep you safe.”

Farewells made, Kazul left to see to his fellow patrolman. Cado, meanwhile, had retrieved a large bundle from behind a nearby tree. Link was thrilled to see it contained all his supplies, including his sword, slate and Sheikah clothing.

“Change quickly,” Cado said urgently. “It is a fair march to the Moor Garrison ruins, and you must reach them with strength and time enough to cross the wetlands.”

Link complied, swiftly swapping his tunic, trousers and leather armor for form-fitting Sheikah garments. The dark blue fabric fit like a second skin, including the foot-shaped ends of the leggings. Small, leather greaves, vambraces and pauldrons added an efficient element of protection, but hardly enough to inhibit movement. No sooner had Link secured his possessions than he was forced to set out after Cado, who was already making his way east through the woods.

“We must risk circling the stable along the river,” the Sheikah informed Link as soon as he had caught up. “Men are easier to avoid than lizardspawn, and the hills will hide us from the latter until we reach the ruins. When we exit the woods, stay low and silent.”

Link did not reply, choosing to conserve his energy in order to make the journey as quickly as possible. The Sheikah garments were like nothing he had ever felt before. Though covered, his feet felt every shift, flaw and interruption in the ground as though they were bare to the earth. Somehow, the sensation did not cause any discomfort or pain, only an acute awareness of the terrain beneath him. Most important of all, his steps made no sound as he traversed the forest floor.

The moon had not yet risen above the eastern mountains when the two men emerged from the woods. Link could see the telltale light from the stable torches, but the rise between it and the river hid them well. He followed Cado down to the riverbank where the Zora had camped the previous day. From there, they followed the river’s course northward.

They had only walked a short while when Cado halted Link with a restraining arm.

“The Rebonae Bridge is ahead,” the Sheikah quietly informed him. “From here, we turn northeast along Crenal Peak’s base and towards the ruins. Stay as low as you can. There is little cover.”

Link silently obeyed, following the dark, half-crouching form in front of him as it turned slightly to the right. The moon finally appeared above the eastern ranges, casting a clear, pale light over the wetlands ahead. Link saw that Cado’s warning was all too true. The gentle slopes of Crenal Peak left them all but exposed to any watchful eye near the wetlands. As quickly as they could, the pair crossed the winding road connecting the bridge to the stable. From there, they walked while hunching as best they could to use what little cover the low wild grass offered.

Moonlight glistened off the wetland water to their right, which was now much closer than Link had seen it since first descending from Kakariko. His body ached with the strain of keeping his knees bent and back hunched for so long, but he did not dare compromise himself for comfort. Besides, Cado was probably just as uncomfortable, and he wasn’t--

Link stopped just in time. He had nearly run right into the Sheikah, who had halted just ahead of him. A silent, pointing hand showed Link the silhouetted ruins just ahead.

The remains of the Moor Garrison strongly reminded Link of the outpost ruins he had traversed just after leaving the Great Plateau. Tumbling walls of long-decrepit buildings thrust skyward like bony fingers even as vines and other creepers sought to tear them down. Glassless windows gaped like wounds from the tallest walls that still remained, while exposed staircases either began too late or ended too soon.

The moon was not the only thing illuminating the scene. Telltale lights of orange flickered amid the ruins.

“Ganonspawn,” Cado whispered. “Most if not all are likely asleep. I do not see a sentry. We do not have time to slay them. We must cross the ford, and quickly.”

Nodding, Link proceeded behind the Sheikah, who was now crouch-walking around the southern side of the ruins. He mimicked Cado as closely as possible, gratefully noting the silence of his own steps. The moonlight was stronger now, a result of the silver half-orb now nearing its midnight peak. Link ignored the cramps and fatigue clamoring for respite. He could see the water ahead.

Nothing emerged from the ruins that were now at their back. Cado, however, unshouldered his horned bow and took up the position of rearguard as they arrived at the ford. Wooden stakes separated the deep northern side from the shallow south. On the other side of the ford lay Mercay Island, its central hill rising quite high despite the islet’s small size.

“Go now!” Cado hissed. “I will follow.”

Link acquiesced, still keeping as low as possible. The water rose no higher than his calves. The riverstones below the surface, however, forced him to take his time. He doubted the Sheikah clothes would conceal him if he stumbled face-first into the shallows.

Darkness fell like a curtain, alarming Link until he realized it was due to a bank of cloud that had covered the moon. His momentary relief gave way to apprehension at the idea of completing his journey without even the night’s token light to guide him. Risking a look behind, Link could still see portions of firelight playing off the broken ruin walls.

The first crossing proved uneventful. Link reached Mercay feeling no worse for wear. Remembering what Cado and the Zora had discussed, he felt his way to the north side of the rock outcropping that dominated the island. He could only assume the Sheikah was right behind him. He would only wait so long to make sure, for the moon had been very nearly at its peak before the clouds had covered it. Fronk was surely waiting for them by now.

A soft, turquoise light bloomed to life nearby. It was Cado, holding what Link recognized as a luminous stone. The Sheikah wasted no time digesting their progress, however.

“There are surely lizardspawn on the island, but we dare not traverse it without at least this much to guide us,” Cado said. “Draw your bow and be ready, for I must lead us to the channel.”

Link unshouldered the large wooden bow he had obtained at Hateno and loosely nocked an arrow to its string. Then he hastened to follow Cado, who was already making his way along the base of Mercay’s hill.

The island was indeed small. It did not take long for the two to circumnavigate the outcropping and behold another expanse of water. Link could tell from the sound, however, that this river ran much deeper and swifter than the forded tributary he had just crossed.

Cado stopped just ahead of him, clearly unwilling to venture beyond the hill.

“Do you see Fronk?” Link whispered.

“No,” the Sheikah answered without taking his eyes off the water. “But the Zora will likely see us before we him. Their kind can stay underwater as long as they must, and he will be difficult to see at night.”

Recalling Fronk’s ebony skin, Link knew Cado spoke the truth.

“Then I must approach,” he said firmly. “We cannot let him linger in doubt and danger.”

The Sheikah turned to look over his shoulder at Link. The eyes above his balaclava were narrowed in consideration, but it was clear no better alternative was available. He finally nodded in assent.

Moving more slowly and quietly than he could ever remember doing, Link crept from behind the hill’s concealing mass toward the river. The island’s coast, worn fine and flat by countless years’ worth of running water, offered no protection. He was now immensely grateful for the clouded sky, as the moon would have announced him to any within eyesight. As it was, Link remained in a crouching walk all the way to the water’s edge, where he stopped to scan the river’s rippling surface.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, to Link’s left, a voice whispered in the darkness.

“Master Link?”

Breathing a sigh of relief, Link saw the vague outline of Fronk’s fish-shaped head just above the surface a few strides out from the bank.

“It is me, Fronk,” Link answered as loudly as he dared. “Stay there. I will come to you.”

The Zora half-obeyed, exposing a third of his great height to come closer.

“The current is swift, Master Link,” Fronk warned. “You will need to hold on tightly to my shoulders and--”

An arrow hissed through the darkness, thudding into the Zora’s upper arm. Fronk’s grunt of pain was drowned out by a bone-chilling series of throaty screeches. This was answered by a throng of guttural cries from the other side of the hill.

Another arrow loosed through the night, but this one flew toward the origin of the first. With a great hiss, a large something toppled down the side of the hill. Cado appeared as if from nowhere, another shaft already nocked to his bow.

“The lizardspawn are coming!” the Sheikah told them urgently, all efforts at secrecy discarded. “Cross now or be slain here!”

“What about you?” Link demanded. “We cannot leave you here!”

“The Zora is wounded, and even healthy could not bear both of us across!” Cado returned coldly. “See to your task, Sir Link, as I now see to mine.”

“He is right,” Fronk added before snapping the arrow lodged in his arm and pulling it out with a painful grunt. The Zora seized Link by the waist and tossed him on his broad back. Ensuring the Hylian’s arms were secured about his shoulders, Fronk dove into the swiftly running waters. “May Hylia swim with you, Master Cado. Take a deep breath, Master Link!”

Link’s desperate attempt to communicate with the Sheikah forced him to fail at Fronk’s instructions. The Zora took him underwater before he was ready, forcing a rush of black liquid into his mouth. He spluttered and choked, wishing with all his might for his head to break the surface and breathe in life-giving air. When it did, Fronk reached behind and patted his charge none too gently in the middle of his back. After Link gratefully coughed up the water he had swallowed, he saw that they were already a quarter of the way across the river, well away from the bank.

Link’s relief was short-lived. A charging mass of torchlight illuminated a nightmare on Mercay. Lizalfos, dozens of them, were rushing the very place Link had last seen Cado. Even as he watched, several of the lizardspawn pointed in his direction and, to Link’s horror, took to the water in fast pursuit.

“Hang on, Master Link!” Fronk shouted. This time Link managed to take a great breath before the Zora took him under once again. He could feel the strength by which Fronk bore him against the current which tried to pull them north.

Now that he was not choking on the river, however, Link was aware of another sensation. Without the sun to warm it, the running water was positively freezing. He could feel his body convulsing in an involuntary effort to stay warm. Link focused all his energy on keeping his arms firmly secured to Fronk’s broad shoulders, lest his quickly numbing fingers lose their grip and leave him to the river’s depths.

When they broke the surface again, Link saw they were more than halfway to the other side. A quick look behind confirmed that the unburdened lizalfos were gaining despite the current’s pull.

“Zora! Zora! Zora!” Fronk shouted desperately to the east bank. “A Zora is here!”

Torchlight flared to life on the opposite bank. The illuminated scene jolted Link with hope: rows of fully armored Zora, all wielding beautifully curved bows of silver. A booming male voice answered Fronk’s plea.

“Zora! Zora! Zora! Shafts and spears for the lizardspawn!”

Fronk dove once more, causing Link to miss seeing two score’s worth of arrows soar through the night and into the water. The broadly aimed shafts found just three lizalfos in the gloom, but that was enough to force the remaining pursuers to scatter.

Link’s body nearly went limp with relief when his next emergence from the water brought with it the sensation of firm ground beneath his feet. Zora and Hylian stumbled through the shallows to the bank, where another half score of the fish-like creatures waited for them.

Mei was among them. The green-skinned Zora rushed to support her husband, who was clearly ailing from his wound. She quickly seized and slapped a fresh handful of mud on the injury to staunch the bleeding.

“Are you al lright, my love?” Mei asked worriedly. “Was the shaft poisoned?”

“No, no, current of my heart,” Fronk smiled through gritted teeth. “It is deep, but not mortal. Proper binding will have me right as rain. I daresay a good time out of the water will do the same for Master Link, though he held his own in the river as well as any!”

Still dripping wet and gulping in sweet air, Link merely waved a hand in reply. The night’s adventure had sapped all but the last strength from his legs, leaving him wobbling over his knees.

His respite was cut short by the arrival of another half-score’s worth of Zora. Their leader was impossible to miss. He was half again as tall as any of the others in attendance, the dark red of his smooth skin shining from the torches held by some of his brethren. The fins at his elbows and hips were striped in brilliant turquoise and yellow, complemented by an intricately designed belt and pauldrons of silver. His golden eyes were set beneath shark-like headfins, the tail of which fell to the small of his back. Resting atop his head and just in front of the miniature dorsal fin was a finely wrought silver headpiece, topped by a perfect teardop of turquoise. An enormous, crescent-tipped spear hung at his back.

Reaching out a massive hand that dwarfed Link’s own, the Zora knelt so he was somewhat at eye level and warmly introduced himself.

“You must be Link. I am Sidon, Prince of Zora’s Domain.”

Link took Sidon’s hand somewhat hesitantly. He simply could not get over the size and impressive nature of the Zora before him. With his dominant physique and ready smile, Sidon oozed confidence, and Link saw it affect all around him. The other Zora -- all roughly the same age of their prince or close to it -- were clearly uplifted with Sidon in their midst.

“I am Link,” was all he could think to answer.

“A fantastic name!” Sidon exclaimed so sincerely that Link could not hide his embarrassment. Then, to his alarm, the prince appeared briefly pensive. “Though I cannot help but feel I have heard it somewhere before.”

To Link’s relief, a pale blue Zora interrupted the introductions.

“Your Highness, the lizalfos are regrouping to attack,” she informed him quickly. “I fear the bank is too wide for us to hold out here.”

“Quite right,” Sidon agreed decisively. “Douse your torches! We must hasten to Inogo Bridge. We can hold them there. Three of you must help Mei with Fronk. His wounds can be properly addressed once the lizardspawn are dealt with. Another must return to Zora’s Domain with all speed with news of our return.”

“I will go, Your Highness.”

Link was none too comforted to see it was Bazz who had volunteered. The ebony-skinned Zora’s voice and expression were filled with an eagerness that made him uneasy. Link tried to tell himself it was just his imagination, especially when Sidon did not hesitate to accept the offer.

“Good Zora,” Sidon praised him. “Tell my father that we have found a Hylian to aid our people and that further word will be sent once we are safe. May Hylia swim with you, captain!”

Bazz inclined his head and made to leave, but not before Link seized at his rubbery-skinned arm.

“My things,” Link asked none too submissively. “You have them?”

There was no mistaking it. Distaste twisted Bazz’s human-like face. In the company of his prince and others, however, the Zora had no choice but to hand over the still-wrapped bundle of Link’s belongings.

“Thank you,” Link offered.

Bazz did not reply. His eyes simply narrowed suspiciously before taking his leave along the bank. Link knew his abrupt departure would be interpreted as haste to obey his prince. Again, he wondered what the Zora so openly disliked about him, but there was little time to dwell on the matter. Sidon and the others were already moving.

“This way, Link!” the prince gestured before setting off himself. Sidon continued to speak quite easily despite the group’s quick pace. “Fronk mentioned you had a Sheikah friend, but they failed to tell me you were one of them as well. You are a fortuitous find indeed!”

“I am a friend of the Sheikah, but I am not counted among them,” Link admitted breathily. “Their garb allowed me to cross the wetlands without discovery until the very end. I can only hope my companion escaped with his life.”

“I am sure Hylia swims with anyone associated with one as brave as you,” Sidon reassured him. Again, Link felt his face flush. He could not remember being around anyone so willing to look to the positive, much less express it so readily. Link’s spirits could not help but feel raised around the Zora prince.

“Fronk also told me of your bravery in saving his beloved,” Sidon added. “You must be a gifted warrior indeed to face so many lizardspawn, much less defeat them!”

“I did no more than anyone should,” Link panted.

“Spoken like the knights of old!” Sidon laughed heartily. Then he looked down and noticed Link’s labored jogging. “I must apologize, Link. You have journeyed long and hard this night. And though we would prefer to swim, our strides are much longer than yours. The bridge is not far. Then you may rest and watch us do our part!”

“I will not watch you risk your lives,” Link huffed determinedly. “My sword and bow are yours if you will have them, Your Highness.”

“As you wish,” Sidon accepted graciously. “Conserve yourself until then. You will see the Inogo Bridge -- the first true sign of my people’s kingdom -- very soon.”

Link adhered to the prince’s suggestion while trying to ignore the pain in his legs and a new stitch searing in his side. The party followed the bank as it turned east. Link saw it was now becoming a formal path as they left the wetlands behind. The river to their right was more defined here, narrow and swift. Trees dotted both sides of the path. The Sheikah tower reared from its perch atop the hill on the south side of the river, its orange light faintly illuminating their way. So far, nothing else disturbed the night’s quiet aside from the Zoras’ steady breathing.

“Where… are they?” Link panted.

“The lizardspawn?” Sidon confirmed. “No doubt they are either swimming upriver or scaling the opposite bank in an effort to head us off at the bridge. They will have a difficult time either way. The Zora’s current is strong and the southern bank is steep, and we are watching both.”

Link nodded in understanding before another question presented itself. The path forked ahead, its left side veering north while the right continued east along the river.

“Where… does that lead?” Link asked with a gesture to the left-most road.

“To Akkala and Death Mountain,” Sidon answered readily. “There are few Zora who have taken that path. The fire mountain is too hot for us, and as for Akkala, we prefer a wetter route. Ah! Behold, Link, the Inogo Bridge!”

Just beyond the fork, the eastward path straightened enough to allow a more direct view ahead. Towers of wondrous silver and blue-glowing stone rose majestically from the near bank, marking the beginning of a gracefully curved bridge that spanned the Zora River. Battlements circled the towers halfway up their length, illuminated by what Link recognized to be carved luminous stones. The entire structure, he realized, was made visible by the wondrous rock having been incorporated throughout. The effect was peaceful and inviting, bordering on magical.

“I see you appreciate the works of my forebears. You honor us.”

Sidon’s words made Link realize he had come to a complete, slack-jawed halt. He shook his head ruefully at the spell the structure had woven over him.

“You need no honor from me, not when you honor yourselves with works such as this,” Link gestured warmly. “Truly, Hylia has blessed your people with gifts, and they have done them justice.”

Sidon’s broad smile deepened. “Well said!” he said heartily. “Now, then, we had best--”

A flight of arrows hissed from high among the rocks of the opposite bank, finding at least five of the marching Zora. Sharp sprays of water shot from the river itself, causing further confusion among the closely gathered group. Hisses and unnerving clicks issued from both areas, revealing their attackers as the lizalfos they had sought to escape.

“Stay out of the water!” Sidon shouted. “To the bridge, quickly!”

En masse, the large Zora and lone Hylian raced along the path to the softly lit Inogo. Arrows continued to harry them, leaving several more Zora wounded and staggering behind the main group. At least half a dozen had fallen and would not rise again.

A high note sounded from the nearest bridge tower. Link saw several large silhouettes hurry round the battlements, unshouldering bows and rushing to aid their harassed brethren. Sidon’s party dove behind the tower and the low bridge wall in an effort to seek cover from the lizalfos’ volleys. Those who were still able drew their own bows, but Link saw with dismay that the lizalfos’ perch on the opposite bank was much higher. The Zora were pinned, trapped on their own bridge and able to be picked off at the monsters’ leisure.

“They were waiting for us!” Sidon hissed in rage. The Zora prince ripped out an arrow protruding from his shoulder and snapped it as though it were a twig. “Cowardly scum! Hylia curse the tower that allowed them this advantage!”

“What are you talking about?” Link shouted above the melee.

“The rocks on that hill were hardly so high before that Sheikah tower sprang from the ground like a weed!” Sidon complained bitterly. “The earth it moved piled on top of what was already there. The Inogo was hardly a disadvantage before now! ”

Link looked desperately to the bridge tower, where the Zora archers were having at least a modicum of success compared to those on the bridge itself. He knew that even in daylight, this would dissolve into a skirmish of sniping, one in which the lizalfos held the higher ground and upper hand. If only there was a way to dislodge the monsters from their perch…

Link’s hands darted to the ties keeping his drycloth-wrapped bundle intact. Shoving aside food, wood and flint, he found the object of his search: a sealed quiver lined with thick wool. The inside was also heavily padded, leaving room for only a handful of uniquely tipped shafts.

“Are those bomb arrows?” Sidon exclaimed, his yellow eyes shining anew with realization.

“Yes, but they will do little good down here,” Link quickly replied. “Can you get me up to the tower?”

“Absolutely, my friend!” the prince assured him before calling to the battlements. “Gruve! Our friend Link is joining you. Listen to him as you would to me! Quickly now!”

Link quickly ascended the ladder up the bridge tower. A blue-skinned Zora helped him up to the battlements, then listened intently as Link explained what was about to happen.

“As soon as the first arrow strikes, have your archers rake the water,” Link instructed him. “Do the same after my second arrow. That should give us the window we need to get out of here.”

With a nod of satisfaction, Gruve shouted to the remaining archers.

“On this side of the tower, all of you!” the Zora shouted. “Stay low and leave the Hylian plenty of room. Be ready to out and loose on my command!”

The Zora’s momentary cease-fire produced a lull in the fighting as the lizalfos waited to see an errant limb or fin betray itself. Link belly-crawled along the circular battlements until he was on the river side. He carefully drew one of the bomb arrows, its end nothing more than a drooping sack of cloth. Fingering the fletching, Link drew a deep breath. Then, in one movement, he rose to his feet, turned, drew and loosed toward the rock outcropping. The sound of the arrow’s flight sounded ominous in its solitude.

Chaos erupted in a flash of fire and smoke. Even as an orange-and-black cloud bloomed amid cracked and falling boulders, a hissing volley of Zora arrows peppered the river water. Thin streams of blood showed at least some of them had found their mark among the depths.

Another bomb arrow and Zora volley sewed further death and distraction among the lizardspawn ranks. The fire briefly illuminated several of the monsters fleeing back towards the wetlands, while those wounded or slain fell into the running currents below.

“Down and across the bridge, Zora!” Gruve bellowed.

In all, some three score of the creatures raced across the Inogo as fast as their webbed feet allowed. Link tried to keep up, but fatigue and pain seized his legs, forcing him to collapse the moment he let go of the ladder.

Without a word, Sidon picked Link up and carried him with no more effort than had he been a babe. With determined speed, the Zora ran the path’s jagged course along the river, their prince bearing the now unconscious Hylian come to save them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is it about Sidon that makes him so many fans' favorite character? I'm sure the answer varies, but I tried to capture as many of them as I could in our first look at him from Link's perspective. I'm really looking forward to his role expanding from here on out, including in the Books 3-6. This is also our first action scene of the Zora at large. There will be others. The wetlands must be retaken, after all.
> 
> While the idea of different clothing with various abilities is fun in a game, it took a good deal of brainstorming to figure out how I could use a modest slice of that concept without seeming unrealistic. I'm not comfortable with Link switching from Sheikah to climbing to fighting gear on a whim. I did feel that the Sheikah garments worked out in this scenario, however.
> 
> Bazz is a new x-factor, and it's clear his motives may not coincide with his prince. How far those motives stray will reveal itself in the coming chapters. In the meantime, thanks so much for your readership. Whether it's passing time at work, enjoying free time at home, or snatching a quick read on the go, I appreciate you. Feel free to leave a comment on the latest chapter and, if you haven't already, tap that Bookmark/Subscribe button to make sure you don't miss the next one. Hope life is treating you well! - MattWords


	19. Designs

A pink-tipped crane soared high above the Zora River, its vast wings allowing the air to carry it and the staminoka bass in its large bill. The great bird flew east toward a dawn obscured by a wall of heavy-laden clouds of grey.

As recently as a month ago, the crane would have contented itself with the bounty of fish that swam below in the great waters of Zora’s Domain. Now, however, the bird’s daily hunt carried it as far as the Lanayru Wetlands. The reason for that was fast approaching. As the crane drew closer to its nest hidden among the crags that hid the great Zora home, rain began to fall. Its origin was the great cloud bank that hung low over the Domain. It did not move as other clouds did. They remained hovering over the easternmost portion of the river, growing ever thicker as the bird neared its mountain home.

The unending deluge that had overtaken the Domain had forced the crane to journey west for more temperate hunting conditions. After a close encounter with lizalfos, however, the bird was seriously considering looking elsewhere. Its journey to the wetlands was already made dangerous for having to leave its tiny chicks for so long. Risking death -- and the loss of the chicks’ mother in the process -- was proving too great a cost.

With that in mind, the crane kept a fierce hold of the fish in its bill. The task was made difficult by the rain, which was quickly turning into a downpour. Seeking a brief respite, the bird dove toward the great silver-blue bridge known to Zoras and Hylians alike as Luto’s Crossing. The structure was rivaled only by the Great Zora Bridge, the final walkway by which those on foot could reach the fabled home of the Zora.

The crane gratefully flew under the northern side of Luto’s Crossing, finding an outcropping on which it could rest before completing its journey home. As it ruffled its feathers for warmth, the bird’s keen eyes spied movement in the water below. In a trice, it discounted the thing for a threat, for it recognized the familiar smooth skin and fish-crown head of a Zora.

Satisfied it was safe, the crane nestled further underneath the bridge, content to take full advantage of its brief respite.

 

* * *

 

Bazz cut through and against the Zora River with the ease of a hot knife through butter. His formidable muscles clamored for rest after they previous night’s events, but a relentless energy drove him forward. His urgency heightened every time his ebony-skinned body broke the surface, allowing him to briefly feel the pounding rain pepper his sleek body. That torrent and his people’s greatest sorrow were the Hylian Champion’s doing -- or lack thereof. It was Bazz, son of Seggin, who would prevent further misery at the hands of Hylians.

Luto’s Crossing was more or less the boundary dividing the Zobodon Highlands from Zora’s Domain itself. East of the bridge, the river was double the size it was forced to become upon squeezing into its canyon-like course to the wetlands. Small islands dotted the wide stretches of water, islands on which countless generations of Zora calves had played and learned to fish.

Bazz swam around the now sodden mounds, spurred on by the sight of his home. The Great Zora Bridge spanned far above him. It would have been magnificent on its own. Instead, it served as merely a preview of the true jewel of Hyrule’s waters.

Zora’s Domain rose the center of its great mountain lake like a monument to Hylia herself. Columns of wrought silver and luminous stone supported the entire elevated structure made from the same materials. The Domain’s outer ring was comprised of three bridges converging on a magnificent circular avenue from which the Zora could reach any part of the inner chambers. Above it all, rising from the top of the throne room itself like a protective spirit, reared an enormous fish carved from the same silver and turquoise materials as the rest of the Domain.

Bazz saw none of that. His eyes were fixed on one of the many Zora-made waterfalls cascading from the Domain’s broad avenues. They were fed by marvelous aqueducts that, through the ancient magic used in their building, carried the lake’s water upward before it ultimately returned to the basin. With a powerful thrust, Bazz propelled himself up the the nearest fall. The gift that Hylia had bestowed only upon the Zora carried him upward, until with a mighty twist he leaped from the current, spun in the air and landed neatly onto the flawless turquoise floor of his people’s kingdom.

On a normal day, far more Zora would already be teeming with residents out and about, either on some errand or merely socializing. Indeed, the Zora were a garrulous people. It appeared, however, that the rain had quelled even that normality. Most of the young adults had accompanied the prince on his quest for “help.” The calves were likely being cared for in the small nursery pools one level above. And if the elders were not here…

Bazz swiftly strode around the circular plaza that marked the center of the Domain, if not its seat of power. The latter was his destination. The sight of Lady Mipha’s statue, however, further quickened his pace and strengthened his resolve.

Twin flights of silver-blue stairs curved up the sides of the plaza. Bazz ascended the nearest, his steps sounding loudly on their wet surface. A female Zora -- a nursery worker -- passed him en route to the plaza, likely on her way to her own water cave for a well-deserved rest. Her eyes widened at the sight of Bazz, recognizing him as one of those who had left with the prince. She did not stop him to ask questions, however. None would until he had first reported to the Council.

The second level was roughly half as big as the first, allowing those at its front balcony to survey the plaza below at their leisure. No gregarious Zora were gathered here, however. Faint sounds of calves trying the patience of the nursery workers could be heard from the back. They were hidden, however, by an even wider staircase that ascended from the center of the second level to the heart of the Domain’s rule.

Bazz strode quickly up the silver-blue steps. They led into the mouth of the enormous fish statue that served as the symbol of the Zora. Its tail reared several hundred feet higher, but Vah Ruta’s rage had prevented the sun from glinting off the Domain’s majestic facade for some time now.

The growing rumble of voices confirmed what Bazz had suspected -- the elders had convened in the great chamber that served as both council room and throne room. Two of the guard -- old enough to be elders themselves so they could be trusted with whatever they heard -- stood sentry at the fish mouth entryway.

The sight of a younger Zora would normally have produced an immediate frown of disapproval on the guards’ faces. Recent events, however, added context to Bazz’s arrival. Both recognized him as part Prince Sidon’s company. To Bazz’s surprise, however, they still politely barred him from the entry his return should have merited.

“Hylia’s waters have brought you safely home Bazz, but you must wait for an audience with King Dorephan and the Council,” the elder of the two acknowledged firmly.

“I come with news from Prince Sidon’s search, Tottika,” Bazz explained impatiently. “What could take precedence over the task the king himself has commissioned his son?”

“Listen for yourself,” the elder Zora coolly replied before cutting off his fellow guard, who was about to interject. “That which currently occupies the king and Council’s attention is tied to Vah Ruta and the prince’s mission. If anything, it will better prepare young Bazz for his report.”

His impatience now blunted with surprised curiosity, Bazz nodded his thanks to Tottika before turning his attention to the raised voices from within the chamber. They were easily heard from within the throne room.

“Your Majesty, I put myself at the feet of your mercy. What I did, I did out of loyalty to my people and the desire to see them safe.”

Bazz recognized the first voice as his father’s, but only just. Never had he heard the former Demon Sergeant, a living legend among his own people, grovel. The sound made his stomach churn. What could possibly force him to abase himself so? King Dorephan’s booming reply cut short Bazz’s wonderings.

“Much like the flatfish, you would convince me that is the only side of your story, Seggin.” Bazz had never heard his king speak in such cold, unforgiving tones. “Were your actions truly loyal, they would have remained aligned to the wishes of myself and the Council. Had you wanted to keep your people safe, you would have helped safeguard the only means by which we hope to quench Vah Ruta’s rage. Now you ask for mercy, mercy Ruta will not return without the means to calm her.”

“Your Majesty, I could not have known a lynel had taken Shatterback Point as its den,” Seggin pleaded. “I thought it would be a safe vantage point from which to quell Ruta’s deluge.”

“That alone convinces me you were blinded by anger and fear,” Dorephan knelled, causing Bazz’s eyes to widen in shock. Accusing the great Seggin of fear was unheard of, but then again, so was the former Demon Sergeant deviating so drastically from his king’s wishes. And a lynel? How in Hylia had one of those monsters come to Plyomus Mountain? And why?

“One with your skill and experience should have seen the signs,” Dorephan pressed. “Instead you were ambushed like a green bull on his first patrol. And now a demonspawn possesses the very weapons with which we hoped to defeat Ruta. How do you propose we replace them?”

“Perhaps a Gerudo trader, Your Majesty…?” Seggin offered feebly.

“A lone Gerudo will not brave the wetlands as they are now, nor would she attempt to reach us through this cursed rain,” Dorephan forcibly answered. “Neither do we have time to swim the Regencia’s length in hopes of finding a Gerudo in the southwest. Our other options are fool’s hopes at best, especially with the nearby stables all but overrun by Ganonspawn. You hoped to save your people, Seggin? You may have doomed them.”

Bazz could not make out his father’s soft quibble of a reply. He had likely never been so reprimanded in his long life. Harsh silence followed, with neither king nor Council offering consolation to the shamed Demon Sergeant.

Bazz started up at a small grunt from Tottika, who gave him a meaningful nod before turning to briefly enter the throne room.

“Your Majesty,” Tottika announced, “Bazz has arrived with news from Prince Sidon’s search.”

More silence. Then Dorephan spoke.

“Seggin, you will remain to contribute what you know should we need to hear it,” the Zora king told him firmly before addressing Tottika. “Tell Bazz his presence is requested before the king and Council.”

The Zora guard bowed and returned to the outside of the chamber. Bazz knew to wait a few precious seconds before entering, lest it be clear he had been eavesdropping from just outside.

When he did enter, Bazz saw the full Council was assembled and seated on the ornate benches built into the chamber walls. They formed a semicircle audience around the slightly raised platform where anyone addressing the king and/or Council was to stand and speak. Inlaid on its surface was the timeless symbol of the Zora: three crescent moons, each touching one another along their outer curves in a pointed, triangular formation.

The platform lay directly in front of the throne, on which Dorephan’s impressive form now sat. Even seated, the Zora monarch reared to a mighty height. His whale-like body was strewn with muscle and sinew to match his size, much of it adorned with the whorling silver jewelry favored by his people. Short, sharp claws extended from his human-like hands, while his feet rested in the water-filled basin at the base of his throne. Like the rest of his kind, Dorephan’s face was topped by a fish-shaped crown, behind which extended an enormously long dorsal fin. The front of that crown was marred by a large scar earned in battle long ago. Below it, the Zora king’s wise yellow eyes were narrowed in sharp focus, his mouth still firmly set after his exchange with Seggin.

Dorephan’s overwhelmingly stern presence, combined with the undivided attention of the full Council, caused Bazz’s mouth to run dry and his mind to momentarily go blank.

Dorephan appeared to sense the effect the atmosphere imposed on the new arrival, for his expression softened before he addressed his captain.

“Welcome Bazz, son of Seggin,” Dorephan intoned kindly. “We thank Hylia that the waters have brought you home. What news have you of my son and his search to aid our people?”

The effect of his king’s soothing bass was immediate. Recalling the proper protocol in such a setting, Bazz knelt in the very center of the audience platform. In doing so, he did not fail to notice the very eager and appraising look from his father.

“Your Majesty and members of the Council,” Bazz began, “I return to inform you that Prince Sidon has successfully located a Hylian who is willing to aid our people. Even now, His Highness and the Hylian make their way here afoot. They will likely arrive by tomorrow morning at the latest.”

Soft murmurs rippled among the Council, something Bazz knew was rare when the king presided. He knew from his own father, however, that the matter of seeking Hylian aid had already disturbed the normally tranquil waters of Zora politics. Even now, Bazz saw Seggin’s wrinkled visage twist in distaste. _What will he do,_ Bazz wondered viciously, _when I tell him the Hylian is named after the one who doomed our people?_

The noise from the Council was made brief by a stern, all-encompassing glance from Dorephan. Once quiet had reclaimed the chamber, he began to probe Bazz with questions -- questions for which the young Zora dearly hoped he had sufficiently prepared.

“How does this Hylian appear?” Dorephan asked. “Does he have the look of a warrior?”

“He showed some skill in helping us fend off a lizalfo attack at Inogo Bridge, Your Majesty.” _A lizalfo attack that would not have come were it not for him,_ Bazz thought savagely. He would not say as much, however. Not here. “I heard he saved Mei, mate of Fronk, from another lizalfo patrol, though I did not see it myself.” Adding this made bile rise in Bazz’s mouth, but he knew it was necessary to keep Dorephan’s suspicions from being aroused. Everyone knew who his father was, and everyone knew whom his father hated. Avoiding that connection would be key to allow Seggin to protect their people from the Hylian’s taint.

“A warrior indeed, and seemingly a selfless one if he risked his life on behalf of one he did not know,” Dorephan observed approvingly. Several among the Council shifted uncomfortably in their seats, while those who sided with the king nodded in agreement. Even glimpsing such transparent divide among his people was alarming, but Bazz knew those who thought along the same lines as his father were in the right.

“What more can you tell us of the Hylian?” Dorephan persisted. “What of Sidon’s company and what their search revealed?”

Bazz was grateful the king had lumped the latter two questions with the first. He doubted he could conceal his disdain for the Hylian for much longer.

“The Hylian appears in good health,” Bazz issued formally. “As for the company, several have fallen to Ganonspawn. The stable north of Thims Bridge is destroyed. Her sister on the wetlands’ western edge still stood when we departed, but the lizalfos already there and the Ganonspawn marching from the north will no doubt overwhelm it, if they haven’t already.”

An especially elderly Councilor stood respectfully, but did not speak until Dorephan acknowledged him.

“You have the floor, Jiahto,” the king said with a gesture to the blue-skinned Zora.

“Your Majesty,” Jiahto said tremulously, “if that many Ganonspawn gather at the wetlands, we will either be trapped here completely or forced to flee Zora’s Domain.”

More murmurs from the Council, but Bazz noted that Dorephan did not reprimand them this time. No doubt the portents of the gathering army -- and the options left to the Zora as a result -- were more than anything they had faced since the Calamity.

“You are wise to call this to our attention, Jiahto,” Dorephan acknowledged with a respectful incline of his great, scarred head. “Unfortunately, we must face the octorok in front of us before attending the razormouths behind. Once Vah Ruta is silenced, we will deal with the threat from the wetlands.”

Jiahto responded with a bow of assent before resuming his seat. The Council said nothing. The faint sound of relentless, pelting rain was the only confirmation they needed that Ruta was the most immediate threat to their ancestral home.

Dorephan returned his attention to the still-kneeling Bazz.

“You have braved much to bring us this news, Bazz,” Dorephan said warmly. “I would have you stay while we discuss these developments -- and those that have preceded you.”

The kings’ final words were issued in a much colder tone. As he respectfully retreated to the far right side of the chamber, Bazz had to take care not to dart his gaze toward Seggin, who had remained standing at the opposite side. The very air seemed to stiffen with an intangible tension.

“And so, my brethren, here we arrive at the conundrum that should not need to be borne,” Dorephan issued in a no-nonsense rumble. “The Hylian we sought -- one who could do we what cannot -- will arrive bereft of the tools we would have him use on our behalf. Seggin, I will allow you to offer up the first idea as to what we should do next. After that, I am open to you, Councilors, for suggestions.”

The shamed Demon Sergeant choked on unsaid emotion before merely bowing and shaking his head. _Perhaps,_ Bazz thought bitterly, _perhaps His Majesty will pardon my father once we show him our path to salvation lies not with this ill-named Hylian_.

Seggin, however, acknowledged his son with a very slight shake of the head. The motion comforted Bazz. His father had at least an idea of what must be done, that much was clear.

The rest of the Councilors’ expressions varied. Some frowned thoughtfully. Others did so rebelliously. Clearly some were more intent on furthering the Hylian’s endeavor than others.

Finally, a venerable elder of dark red skin rose to his fins, drawing every pair of yellow eyes to him. Dorephan acknowledged him with a grateful nod.

“Kapson, my friend, you have thought of something?”

“I believe I have, Your Majesty,” the Councilor answered slowly, “but it is not a safe nor easy solution. If we cannot replace the lost shock arrows by other means, perhaps they can be retaken.”

“I am loathe for any of our people to take such a risk,” Dorephan frowned worriedly. “Were the lunes unarmed, I would confront the beast myself. Against shock arrows, however, I am as vulnerable as any Zora. We are all but helpless against such a threat.”

“I have taken that threat into consideration, Your Majesty,” Kapson returned readily. “Allow me to make myself understood. As the task of using shock arrows required a Hylian’s help, I believe the necessity of retrieving them demands the same.”

More murmurs issued from the Council, and this time Dorephan did take the time to silence them with a sweeping look before addressing Kapson.

“You are right that a Hylian stands a better chance against shock arrows than we,” Dorephan admitted, “but even unarmed, a lynel could tear him to pieces. He has already agreed to risk his life on our behalf. Dare we double the request and, in so doing, diminish his chances to succeed on either count?”

“As I said, it is not a safe nor easy recourse,” Kapson admitted with his arms humbly spread. “If one of my brethren -- or you, of course, Your Majesty -- has a better alternative, I will vote for its approval without hesitation.”

Bazz’s eyes darted back from the elder to his king, but stopped at his father en route. Seggin’s expression had turned into something else entirely. The ebony-skinned Zora looked… eager.

Dorephan, meanwhile, was still deeply pondering Kapson’s proposal. Finally, he raised his great dome and addressed the Council.

“Were there another way to quell Ruta’s rage, I would do it,” Dorephan began. “There is not, at least not one I know of. Were there another means by which to obtain the shock arrows we need for the way I _do_ know, I would take it. I do not see such a solution within the little time that remains us before the reservoir will surely burst apart.”

Deafening silence met each pronouncement from the Zora king, who continued on with hard-won resolve.

“I would not ask another to risk his life in our stead, but it appears that is what Hylia requires of us,”  Dorephan concluded heavily. “Barring a better idea from one of you, I propose we ask this Hylian for his aid to not only calm Vah Ruta, but to obtain the shock arrows he needs to do so. Those in favor?”

Every hand in the room was raised. After slowly surveying the chamber, Dorephan nodded in satisfaction.

“So be it. If there is nothing else that needs to be brought to our attention, the Council is dismissed. See to your families. May Hylia bless us all.”

For the most part, the elders were slow and methodical in removing themselves from the throne room. Seggin, however, spoke hurriedly to Trello before making his way quickly to his son.

“Meet me in the cave,” the elder Zora whispered during his brief embrace. Then he bid Bazz a publicly fond farewell before turning to speak with a green-skinned Councilor.

Bazz did not wait. His father had a plan after all. He made sure to acknowledge another pair of elders who welcomed him home before hastily exiting the throne room. Bazz descended to the lowest level of the Domain as efficiently as he could, taking care to return the salutations of his brethren lest he appear suspicious. He followed the nearest Zora-made aqueduct to the low silver wall circling the level’s perimeter. A break in the low wall allowed the clear water to spill into the basin below. Bazz followed them, diving smoothly into the dark depths of his people’s home.

Reaching his family’s underwater cave was but the swim of a moment. The dwelling seemed much smaller now that he was grown, but Bazz would not leave his father’s abode until he wed a mate of his own. Seggin’s well-used battle spear adorned the back wall. Bazz hung his own silverscale spear on its own set of brackets below. The light of luminous stones played faintly off its crescent-shaped blade, which was used only by the most skilled Zora warriors.

His father arrived through the exit pool with a small whoosh of breaking water. Two more splashes accompanied him, and Bazz saw with surprise that Trello and the green-skinned Zora had accompanied his father to their home. He quickly clasped their hands with his head bowed, as was proper when a younger Zora greeted an elder in a personal setting.

“Councilor Muzu, Master Trello, we are honored to have you in our home,” Bazz said fervently. His father’s plan must be marvelous indeed to have merited the presence of two of the most respected elders in the Domain. “Please, be seated.”

Trello and Muzu accepted their younger counterpart’s invitation, sitting upon small chairs carved from the cave’s original stone. Seggin stood next to them, and Bazz suddenly realized that he was the object of the trio’s scrutiny.

“I am glad the waters have brought you home, my son,” Seggin began briskly. “Now, tell us what you chose not to disclose in the throne room.”

With the eyes of his father and two highly respected elders boring into him, Bazz told them everything. Well, nearly. He would save the most important for the end. As he spoke, the expressions of the three elder Zora sharpened, their yellow eyes narrowing to slits. By the time he was done, Bazz’s throat was dry and painful, but he did not ask for permission to drink.

“Well?” Seggin’s question rang with undisguised contempt. “What do you think of our _savior_?”

The mocking title did nothing to improve the soured looks on the other two elders.

“A Hylian swordsman in league with the Sheikah, the very creators of the doom we face,” Muzu muttered disbelievingly. “I was Princess Mipha’s mentor when she lived, and even then I knew her fascination with Vah Ruta was unhealthy. I was too right, and now the architects of her demise once again threaten our people. It is too much!”

“What of the Hylian?” Trello demanded, fists clenched and fins vibrating in agitation. “How does he happen to come across one of our own in time to save her, just when we happen to be searching for one of his wretched kind? It is a coincidence that strains credulity. It is beyond foolish to assume its innocence!”

“Yet our king and his son, royalty though they are, are trusting to a fault,” Seggin added vexingly. “I respect them, as do you, but they are blind to the same danger we faced a century ago!”

_Now,_ Bazz thought.

“Speaking of which,” the young Zora said, drawing the surprised attention of the fuming elders. They had very nearly forgotten Bazz was there at all. “I thought you would find his name interesting, father. He is called… Link.”

Quick as a flash, Seggin’s clawed hand took his son by the neck and slammed him against the cavern wall. Bazz struggled to breathe as his father whispered hoarsely into his face.

“Do not jest with me, boy!” Seggin rasped with choked fury. “That, that -- _name_ is not needed for me to hate this Hylian!”

“Calm yourself, Seggin!” Muzu gasped in alarm. Both he and Trello were trying vainly to pry the enraged Demon Sergeant off his son. “I do not believe Bazz would be so foolish as to use that name in sport! You have taught him well!”

The former Demon Sergeant appeared to come to his senses, his unbidden wrath seeping out of his face and grip until he was left limp in his friend’s arms. Bazz fought back tears as he massaged his neck before dropping to one knee and looking up fearfully at Seggin.  
  


“I… I tell you only the truth, father,” Bazz whispered. “His name is -- what I said. It is because of your teachings that I did not bring it to the Council’s attention. I knew the pain and grief it would cause the elders -- and you.”

Seggin once again rushed to his son, but this time it was to embrace him consolingly. Tears streamed down the old Zora’s face.

“Forgive me, Bazz,” Seggin said softly while stroking his son’s head tail as he had when he was a child. “I was mad with grief. I cannot believe--”

“Nor can I,” Muzu muttered ominously. “What can this mean? How could Hylia allow someone with that name into our midst?”

“Perhaps it is better that She did allow it,” Seggin observed with quiet intensity. He had risen from comforting his son, and was now staring at something only he could see. “If that is truly his name, it will only remind our brethren of what his _predecessor_ cost us a century ago. They will not allow such a one to aid us, no matter how desperate our need. We will find another way, a _Zora_ way,” he forcefully added.

“But what if they don’t?” Trello asked desperately. “Hylia help me, but I would kill him myself had I the strength of my youth. As it is, we are ill-equipped to prevent his kind from cursing our people again!”

“You forget,” Seggin answered with the same sickly smile Bazz had seen in the throne room, “our friend Jiahto had a brilliant suggestion that was approved by the Council. What better fate for such an ill-named Hylian than death to a demonspawn?”

“What if he doesn’t fail, father?” Bazz offered hesitantly. He did not want to risk his father’s wrath again, not when the subject at hand could so readily ignite it. “I did not wish to say so in front of the Council, but the Hylian is a skilled warrior. He might use some unknown devilry to escape the fate he deserves.”

“That,” Seggin answered as his smile deepened, “is where you come in, my son…”

 

* * *

 

Dying fires smoldered where Mercay’s trees had stood just hours earlier. Blackened stumps remained here and there, stubborn survivors of the Wizzrobe’s unbridled rage. So thorough had his retribution been that the charred remains of the punished lizalfos would hold little interest for their hungry and surviving brethren.

The Wizzrobe himself sat on one of those stumps, his breath rasping loudly in the otherwise quiet night. He had allowed the lizalfos to communicate everything they had seen of the night’s encounter with the boy. On other occasions, he might have enjoyed their quivering fear for the retribution they knew was coming.

Not now. This was no time for petty shows of power among the Demon King’s lesser servants, not after the boy had slipped right through his red-gloved fingers. The Wizzrobe had not hesitated to slay the stupid creatures where they stood.

That two Hylians -- the boy had acquired a companion, apparently -- and a Zora had managed to elude his forces so narrowly gnawed at the Wizzrobe’s unsatisfied ambition. The boy had moved out of desperation -- and escaped unscathed. The Wizzrobe nearly lashed out again with his red-glowing wand in sheer frustration. The stupid monsters had likely wasted his best chance.

Now the boy might as well be lost in the Gerudo desert. Though the Divine Beast in Zora’s Domain threatened to destroy the fishscum, it also nullified the Wizzrobe’s own powers. What good was the threat of sorcerer’s fire in a land cursed with unceasing rain? There might as well be a magical shield around the boy. That left the lizalfos, but did he dare trust them again?

As if his dark thoughts had been a summons, the Wizzrobe heard the soft hiss and slither of a lizardspawn approaching. Furious at being disturbed by one of the very creatures that had failed him, the dark wizard turned to deal instant, scorching death. He stopped short not only at seeing the lizalfo in question, but the black-cloaked Hylian that accompanied him.

The lizardspawn was half as large again as its brethren, its scales white compared to the normal forest green of its wetland kind. Steel armor sheathed its curved back and horned face, while a viciously tipped spear hung loosely from its right clawed hand. One of its independently rolling eyes focused on the Wizzrobe. The other hovered on the Hylian, whose face remained concealed by the dark hood and black mask it had worn during his last visit.

“Hylian… sssssssee you. Messsssssage… from Masssssster.”

The Wizzrobe rose to his feet, his red eyes flaring in the darkness.

“You lie,” he hissed. “What message would the Master send through Hylian filth than deliver to me personally?”

“Be grateful He did not choose to deliver it personally,” the Hylian said coolly through his shroud. “You would still be screaming if He had.”

“You insect,” the Wizzrobe wheezed. His wand was upraised, its bejeweled end beginning to glow bright red. “Your insolence forfeits whatever protection your errand earned you.”

“Kill me, then,” the Hylian shrugged. Then he actually had the temerity to sit down on a nearby stump! “Kill me and earn the reward for slaying one more favored by the Master than you.”

The Wizzrobe nearly screeched with rage. The Hylian’s words were a burning weal made worse by the sting of that night’s earlier defeat.

“What is the message?” the Wizzrobe rasped furiously.

“The Master knows what happened this night,” the Hylian replied calmly. “You have failed Him, but He is merciful. He allows you another chance to complete your task and earn your honor.”

“I accept!” the Wizzrobe snapped hurriedly. The sooner he claimed the right to _Karanlik_ , the sooner he could rid himself of this Hylian in the most satisfactory manner possible. “You! Lizalfo! Leave us!”

To the Wizzrobe’s utter amazement, the Hylian shook his head. “This is your lizalfo general, is it not? It is to stay, for it has a part to play in your redemption, Wizzrobe.”

Enraged at being robbed of even this menial authority, the Wizzrobe merely nodded in silent outrage.

“The Master knows you are of little use against the Zora while the Divine Beast rages,” the Hylian began nonchalantly, ignoring another hiss of fury from the Wizzrobe. “You are to wait for bokoblins to join you from the north. Once they do, the lizalfos will march under their general’s command to Zora’s Domain, where they will wipe out the fish.”

“And what honor does this earn me?” the Wizzrobe demanded. “You expect me to stand idly by while underlings seize every prize within reach?”

“Do not interrupt me again.”

The disdainful chill in the Hylian’s voice sorely tempted the Wizzrobe to ignore his earlier warning and blast him to ashes where he stood. If that warning was true, however… if he had truly fallen out of favor with the Dark Lord… that the lizalfos’ failure had shackled him so thoroughly galled the Wizzrobe. Yet there was nothing he could do until he had regained his Master’s good graces. Yes, he would bide his time and swallow the Hylian’s insults. After that, the Wizzrobe would bask in this filth’s screams as long as they held out.

The Hylian, meanwhile, had taken the Wizzrobe’s furious silence as permission to continue.

“Once the boy is found, the lizalfos will deliver him to you. Then you will be free to reap the reward you will have so justly earned. If you are too impatient to wait in the meantime, you have the Master’s leave to destroy the stable nearby.”

The Wizzrobe’s fiery eyes -- red slits that never blinked -- glared malevolently at the faceless Hylian.

“After I kill the boy and am named _Karanlik_ , Hylian, you will regret addressing me so carelessly,” he whispered.

The black-clothed Hylian turned to walk away before deigning to answer over his shoulder.

“Take care that your ambitions do not exceed your abilities, Wizzrobe.”

Again, the red-cloaked sorcerer was seized with the mad desire to lay devastation in his path. The only victim within reach, however, was the lizalfo general, which had wisely kept its silence during the tense exchange.

“What are you waiting for?” the Wizzrobe snarled. “Send scouts to find the pigspawn to the north! I expect word as soon as it can be had.”

“I… will,” the lizalfo slowly hissed. “Would be better… to attack sssssstable… firsssssst. Dead Hylianssssss… cannot help Zora.”

The Wizzrobe fingered his wand thoughtfully. He could not allow anything to tip the scales toward failure again, not even a woebegone mix of Hylian refugees. Better to swat the darner now, lest it distract him from the lion later. The Wizzrobe nodded curtly.

The lizalfo general smiled as much as any of its kind could, its long jaws parting to reveal row upon row of cruelly curved teeth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I noted at the end of "Hope and Hatred," the Zora's dislike for Hylians in general and Link in particular takes on a more realistic role in this story. Seggin and the other elders will not stop at empty threats, especially those that have passed on their prejudices to their children. We are accustomed to Link battling the forces of evil. What happens when his would-be allies reveal themselves as something else entirely?
> 
> The Wizzrobe's frustration is palpable. Ganon's lieutenants sew as much suspicion and distaste amongst themselves as they do chaos among the innocent. The black-robed Hylian is an uncomfortable wildcard in the Wizzrobe's plans. How much power he wields is yet to be seen. Thanks for any comments/favs/follows in the meantime. Hope life is treating you well. - MattWords


	20. A River Remembered

A massive hand gently shaking his shoulder stirred Link from a deep, dreamless slumber. He turned to see the strong face of Sidon smiling encouragingly at him, his shark-like crown only just fitting inside the triangular canvas stretched overhead.

“Good morning, Link!” the Zora prince greeted him cheerfully. “I took the liberty of setting up this -- what was the word again? Ah yes! Tent! I erected this tent just for you! It is an old thing, I am afraid, one acquired from a Hylian trader many years ago. When we went searching for one of your kind, I knew he or she would appreciate shelter from this dreadful deluge en route to my home! I understand Hylians are not as comfortable sleeping when wet.”

Link regretfully shrugged himself free from the cloak that had served as his blanket. The dank air was chill even inside the tent, and the steady patter of rainfall told him a fire would not be an option today.

“You are right, Your Highness,” Link admitted good-naturedly while getting to his knees. “I thank you for your thoughtfulness. Stiff limbs would be of little use to your people.”

Sidon politely backed out of the tent to allow Link to redress in his regular trousers and tunic. The Zora now reared to his full, impressive height. His red and cream skin seemed to absorb the steady rainfall.

“Please, call me Sidon!” the prince exclaimed. “We are not in so formal a setting as to require titles! Besides, we have a good day’s journey to Zora’s Domain, and I would rather we converse as companions and friends.”

“I gladly welcome a friend in such troubled times,” Link agreed. He paused in gathering his belongings upon finding themselves alone. “Where is the rest of your party, Sidon? Somewhere at least as safe this, I hope.”

“Safer, even,” the prince nodded with a nod and a smile. “I have bidden the rest of them return to Zora’s Domain. The journey on foot is difficult for those unused to making it, and I would not have them endure more than they must after all they have done for me already.”

Link nodded appreciatively in response. He was growing to like this Zora prince more with each passing moment.

“Leave the tent, Sidon,” he assured him when his new companion’s first enthusiastic attempt to pack the canvas failed miserably. “I have my own already, and perhaps traders and travelers will make use of this one once the road to your home is made safe.”

Sidon bounded to his feet and clapped Link heartily on the shoulder. “Well said, Link! Your optimism boosts my spirits! Let us be off!”

Link grinned. He wondered whether Sidon’s spirits ever needed boosting. Gathering his things -- and digging out a cold apple to munch along the way -- Link set out alongside the Zora prince.

They had, Link realized, camped alongside a road that curved sharply through the pine forest that dominated the rocky terrain. It was hard to tell under the cloud-strewn sky, but Link guessed the path was leading them southeast at the moment.

“Where are we, Sidon?” Link asked curiously.

“The Tabahl Woods,” the Zora answered readily. “They lie between the slopes of the Zobodon Highlands to the south and the Zora River to the north, which we crossed last night. We will traverse it twice more before we reach my home. The Hylian path is a long one, but quite beautiful. I am to assume, then, that you are not familiar with Zora’s Domain?”

“Only with what I have heard from others,” Link admitted truthfully. “Though if the Inogo Bridge is any hint as to your home, I will likely be lost for words when we arrive.”

Sidon’s muscled chest swelled with pleasure at the compliment. “Though I have lived there all my life, the beauty of Zora’s Domain still tugs at my heart. It will do it well to see my home freed from Vah Ruta’s rage.”

“I will do everything I can to see that happen, Sidon,” Link responded firmly. “I promise.”

“I’ve no doubt you will, my friend,” Sidon said with a look of deep interest. “I must admit, I was impressed by your skill against the lizardscum. You told me last night that you were not Sheikah, though you wore their armor. Now I see your cloak bears the royal symbol of Hyrule. I confess I am curious as to what home you do claim and how you came by your marvelous skills in battle.”

Link hid his concern with a bite from his apple while Cado’s warning rang in his ears. Link desperately wanted to tell his new friend everything. Dare he risk it without knowing how much Sidon knew, perhaps even remembered, about him?

“I come from the west,” Link said finally. His answers, for now, would as truthful as he dared. “My ancestors were knights of Hyrule.” _My father, at least,_ Link thought. _Would Sidon -- or his father, King Dorephan -- have known or met my father?_ “I learned what I could to honor them and defend what I hold dear.” Link could not remember the truth of all that, but it felt right when he said it.

“You have a good heart, Link of Hyrule,” Sidon said approvingly as the path took yet another twist through the forest. “My sister, may Hylia’s waters keep her, used to say that no shield is stronger nor sword sharper than a good heart against the forces of evil and sorrow.”

“Used to say?” Link asked curiously.

“Yes,” Sidon acknowledged. Link noted with alarm that the Zora’s normally merry expression had fallen in sorrow. “My sister was Mipha, late princess of Zora’s Domain.”

It took all of Link’s will to mask the shock that spun his head and throttled his throat. Perhaps it had been the haste of the previous night’s flight. The heat of battle. His single-minded intention to wrest control from Vah Ruta. Whatever the case, he had failed to connect the now obvious lines that tied Mipha to Sidon. Once again, he could see her at the foot of Mount Lanayru. Sidon was, Link now saw, every opposite that complemented his sister. Tall and strong where she was small and graceful. Outspoken and garrulous where she was quiet and reserved. Yet the coloring of their skin and their undeniably noble bearing all but shouted their relation, and Link berated himself ten kinds of fool for not realizing it before now.

“I… I am sorry to have recalled that burden to your mind, Sidon,” Link managed to say. “I did not mean to renew your grief.”

Sidon placed his clawed hand on Link’s shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “There is no need to apologize, friend Link,” the Zora said in a tone that convinced Link he meant it. “It is good to remember those whom we loved and lost. It reminds us of how Hylia has graced our lives. My sister was dearly beloved by all our people, and our grief over her passing will likely live on until all that knew Mipha join her with Hylia.”

The two companions emerged briefly from the woods just as Sidon finished speaking. A low bank blanketed with green grass lay before them, its rock-strewn edge containing the fast-flowing river. A cunningly fashioned pole of silver and luminous stone rose up ahead, serving as a marker to assure travelers they were taking the correct road to Zora’s Domain. Even with the continuous rainfall, the scene was idyllic.

“Coincidentally,” Sidon said with a gesture to the green-carpeted bank, “my sister loved this place. It is known as the Bank of Wishes. She spent many a quiet hour here -- when my brethren and I were not disturbing her with our games, of course!”

The prince’s commentary washed over Link, whose eyes had locked on the bank and neighboring river. There was something about the grass and the water, the way one fed into the other, and how peaceful the whole scene appeared to be.

_“...when my brethren and I were not disturbing her with our games, of course…”_

 

* * *

 

The midday sun drenched the Bank of Wishes in glorious light, its rays glinting off the Zora River in silvery patches that rippled with the water. The grass was the vivid green that only the best days of spring can bring, its vibrancy invigorating to all with the pleasure to behold it on this fine day -- and there were many who did.

Roughly a dozen Zora calves cavorted in the water with the unbridled joy most often reserved for the young. Most stayed somewhat close to the bank, for here the river flowed fast and deep between the rocky banks of the Zobodon Highlands.

That did not inhibit their boisterousness, however. Some gleefully jumped from a large boulder half-buried by the current, each of them jumping just a little too soon in their eagerness and partially landing on the one who had leaped before, which only produced more laughter amid the innocent chaos. Others took it upon themselves to sneak up on unaware playmates, swimming underwater before popping up with a splash and a loud yell to the surprised delight of their friends.

One especially boisterous Zora boy seemed to be the center of all the roughhousing. He was a good head taller than his playmates, all of which seemed particularly keen to witness his best feats of mischief.

“Go on, Sidon!” a blue-skinned youngster whispered eagerly. “Go scare her!”

Link, who was seated on the far left side of the bank, smiled in anticipation as he watched the young Zora prince disappear into the water with a truly fiendish grin on his face. The last Link saw of him was the small red dorsal fin on the crown of his head before he slipped into the river’s depths. He did not need to see Sidon to know he was making his way upriver toward the right side of the bank, for that was where his victim sat propped up against the light post.

The sunlight seemed to illuminate Mipha, daughter of King Dorephan, Princess of Zora’s Domain. It glinted off the silver she wore at her waist, neck, wrists, and crown. Her dark red and cream skin was complemented by waist and arm fins of bright turquoise and yellow. The Zora princess had set down her long trident in favor of a new book gifted to her by Princess Zelda earlier that day. Link knew, however, that Mipha’s normally serene expression was about to be rudely interrupted.

As if on cue, a small red something torpedoed out of the river and toward the bank, its exit from the water creating a sizeable splash. Mipha, however, appeared to have anticipated her younger brother’s arrival perfectly. Without the slightest sign of surprise, she slid her book safely out of the way before deftly catching Sidon in midair with both hands.

The other Zora youngsters laughed and cheered at the feat of both friend and princess, the latter of whom was very nearly failing at keeping a stern face with her tiny intruder.

“Did I scare you, sissy?” Sidon asked hopefully.

“Silly, how could you scare me when I clearly knew you were coming?” Mipha returned as seriously as she could. Her brother’s cheeky smile, however, ultimately convinced the Zora princess to give up her mock-serious reproach. Instead, she set about tickling the little prince. The abrupt change in retribution produced giggling cries of protest from Sidon and high-pitched laughter from his friends. “You think you can scare me, little prince?” she teased him lovingly. “You think you can scare me?”

Link’s smile broadened at seeing such play between brother and sister. It felt good to be a part of such a lighthearted scene, even as an observer. Though he had just entered his fourteenth year, Link had seen discipline replace the innocence of his childhood more than ever before. He still did not feel comfortable in the garb of the Royal Guard, though his father would always brush aside his complaints whenever he chose to voice them.

“They will grow on you, Link,” he would laugh before turning serious. “Hylia knows your heart, and She will place you where you are needed most. Never doubt Her -- or yourself, my son.”

Link did not doubt himself, but sometimes he wondered if his father was purposefully testing his resolve. His training was more strenuous than ever despite the fact no swordsman could best him. Knowing that, Link had asked his father just a month before why he was being pushed so hard when his ability was already proven. His father had looked at him for several studious moments before finally answering.

“There is a time in everyone’s life when he must meet what can break him,” he had said intently. “If you are only braced against that which you know, the unknown will drown you in its coming.”

And so Link had continued to train under the watchful eye of his father and the captain of the guard. Both of them were now at Zora’s Domain with King Dorephan and the Council. They had bid Link safeguard the youths’ outing with Mipha, allowing him a rare window of relative leisure. His sword lay sheathed on the grass beside him, its purple-and-gold scabbard -- further proof of his rapid ascension among Hyrule’s ranks -- brilliantly catching the midday sun.

For once, Link’s mind was nowhere near the weapon that never left his side. Instead, he watched Mipha playfully torment her brother until the Zora princess looked up and waved him over.

Curiously, seeing her eyes meet his and her motioning for his company set Link’s heart racing. He had always held a soft spot in his heart for Mipha. He was only six years old when they had first met, and he had witnessed her magical healing powers with childlike awe. Mipha in turn had taken him under her fin with a sisterly fondness, always taking time to show him something new in the Domain or fetch him a delicious Zora delicacy from the kitchens.

As he rose and approached Mipha now, however, he realized his feelings were no longer those of an adoring young boy. They were something else entirely, and that fact was harder to ignore as he more clearly beheld the delicate beauty of her cream-skinned face and inviting eyes.

“Please, sit down, Link,” Mipha invited him warmly.

 _How close should I sit to her?_ Link wondered frantically before angrily replying to himself. _Why should that matter? It never has before!_ He hoped Mipha did not notice his awkward hesitation before finally sitting what he deemed an appropriately close distance from the princess.

Mipha had stopped tickling Sidon, who had settled into his sister’s lap. He was, Link realized, clinging to his sister while looking at him with something very close to a pout.

“Do you remember who this is, Sidon?” Mipha asked her brother sweetly while stroking his shark-shaped crown.

The young prince nodded sulkily as children often do when forced to answer an uninteresting question. “He’s Link,” Sidon answered petulantly. “He’s your friend. But you’re _my_ sister.”

Mipha’s laugh was as light and pleasant as silver chimes caught by a gentle breeze.

“Of course, sweet Sidon, I will always be your sister!” she reassured him lovingly with a gentle squeeze. “Just as Link will always be my friend!”

Mipha had lifted her gaze to him, but Link suddenly averted his. He did not want to risk her seeing the suddenly ugly feeling that had writhed to life in his stomach. _This is stupid!_ he thought angrily. _Why should Mipha wanting to be my friend upset me?_ Mentally repeating the idea, however, only increased the sickening sensation of dissatisfaction.

“Link, you see, is much more than just my friend,” Mipha explained to Sidon in elementary tones. “He is also a member of the Royal Guard of Hyrule. Only those of the Guard bear swords such as the one he carries. And he is the youngest among them! Even Sergeant Seggin has said Link is the most skilled swordsman  in all of Hyrule!”

The octorok in the pit of Link’s stomach fled, replaced by a rapidly inflating balloon of pride. He had unconsciously brought the sword with him before once again setting it down in the grass. Under the warmth of Mipha’s praise, he dearly wished he had performed his daily exercises in full view of Mipha and the calves.

As it was, Sidon was now alternating his gaze between the sword and Link with undisguised wonder.

“Do you think I can be like Sir Link when I am as old as he is?” Sidon asked excitedly.

“That will take many years, Sidon,” Mipha explained kindly. “Hylians, you see, age far faster than we do. Why, already Link looks much older than when I first met him. It will be decades before you look as old as he does now at just fourteen!”

The thorny resentment returned to Link’s insides. _Just fourteen?_

Sidon, meanwhile, was nodding thoughtfully. “Well, all right!” he finally declared. Then the Zora prince clambered out of his sister’s lap and raised his fist decisively. “When I look as old as Sir Link does, I will be as good a warrior as he is!”

With that and a broad smile of pearly white teeth, Sidon leaped back into the water with Zora-like grace and childlike enthusiasm.

“I am sorry about my brother, Link!” Mipha laughed brightly. “He is terribly jealous of anyone that takes my time, and I felt he needed to know that you are someone to respect rather than resent.”

“It is all right, Your Highness,” Link answered good-naturedly while getting to his feet.

“Oh please stay!” Mipha protested cheerfully. “It’s been so long since we’ve seen one another, and we hardly had time to talk when you first arrived at the Domain! I must say, it is wonderful to see how much you’ve grown. Are you enjoying being part of the Guard?”

“Oh, yes,” Link said while trying to mask his sudden pleasure at being invited to remain near her. “It is an honor to be among the best knights of Hyrule. I mean no disrespect, of course. The Zora’s renown is widespread and well-earned.”

“The Link I knew would never have worried about such things as honor and renown,” Mipha observed with a small smile. “You have truly grown much, Link. I will miss the little boy that used to watch my ‘magic.’”

Link tried to laugh off the butterflies assaulting his stomach. “You have many years yet with that little one to wonder at your gifts, Princess,” he said with a gesture toward the river, where Sidon’s red dorsal fin was again visible as he swam toward an unsuspecting friend on the far side of the bank.

“That I do,” Mipha agreed with a light laugh. “He is a handful, is Sidon, but he has a good heart. It will do him well when he is older. I have always said that a good heart--”

Link had been absentmindedly watching Sidon while Mipha was talking. The young prince was very near his next victim, who was playing with river stones in the shallows. Suddenly, two of the nearby boulders moved. Like a nightmare, their shape and colors changed to reveal the forms of two lizard-like monsters. Their razor-sharp teeth bared in triumph as they snatched both calves in scaled and bony arms, their stronger and longer hindlegs already scurrying out of the water and toward the dense forest.

“Sidon!” Mipha screamed in panic. “No!”

The Zora princess grabbed her trident even as she cried out, but Link had not wasted time for even that much. He did not remember snatching his sword from the grass and slinging it over his shoulder as he sprinted toward the fleeing lizalfos. A small inlet briefly divided the open bank from the forest. Link leaped from the former, grabbed a low-hanging branch and swung over to the other side.

The lizalfos’ exit from the river, hampered by the calves’ struggles,  had not been nearly as swift. Link reached them just inside the tree line. Four more lizardspawn had joined them to protect their would-be meal. Three of them bore spears tipped with sinuously curved metal ends. The others boasted only razor sharp claws and teeth for weapons. One of them held the Zora fast around the neck, and Link knew it was only keeping them alive in case affairs went badly for its brethren.

Link sized up monsters and captives even as he whipped his sword out of its scabbard. Its steel blade and golden hilt shone in stark contrast to the dull weapons of the lizalfos, whose eyes rolled this way and that in anticipation.

The brief pause was broken by a sudden hiss that cut through the air. The noise ended near the calves, its source the silver trident that now bloomed from their captor’s horned face.

The shock of Mipha’s attack was all Link needed. He was among the remaining lizalfos as swiftly as the nearby river water, flowing from foe to foe with each deadly stroke of his blade. The young knight uttered no war cry as he dealt out merciless death; his face was a stoic mask of unyielding stone. Only at the last monster did he gasp as the beast’s panicked defense saw its spear slash Link in his unarmored side. Blue Hylian eyes hardened. He gave the gold-hilted blade a particularly vicious flourish upon removing it from the lizalfo’s narrow chest, his only thought one of irritation as the last of the Ganonspawn fell.

“Sidon, Fronk, are you hurt?”

Mipha’s urgent yet gently delivered question cracked the emotionless void in which Link had fought. He turned to find the princess crouched next to the two young Zora, both of whom were shaking their heads. He quickly joined them, his sword still in hand in case more lizardspawn should arrive.

“And you, Princess?” Link asked quietly. “Are you hurt?”

Mipha looked up, her wide, yellow eyes taking in everything from Link’s concerned expression to his blood-stained blade to the wound in his side.

“I am fine, Link,” she breathed. “So are the little ones. But you are wounded. Quickly, we must return to the bank to make sure the others are safe. Then I can see to your wound.”

Link wiped his sword on the grass before returning it to its sheath, but he did not cease to scan the trees as he and the three Zora made their way back to the riverbank. No other enemies revealed themselves, however, and they found the other calves waiting in huddled nervousness in the river shallows.

Mipha briefly ascertained the youths were safe before encouraging them to return to play. They were reluctant to do so… until Sidon began relating an extremely detailed version of what had just taken place.

“Sir Link swung his sword and cut the monster’s head clean off!” the young prince exclaimed to the ooh-ing approval of his friends.

Mipha smiled and shook her head as she left the little ones for Link, who was rinsing his hands in the shallows.

“Youth should never glorify death, but I can forgive Sidon his fascination with it at the moment,” Mipha said as Link stood to greet her. “Come here, Link. Go on, remove your shirt so I can have a look at that.”

Link pulled the dark green Hylian tunic over his head, wincing at the tugging pain it caused to his side. The discomfort quickly gave way to goosebumps as Mipha’s soft fingers just grazed the area around his wound.

“It is not serious, but it’s not a scratch either, is it?” Mipha observed. “It should be healed before infection sets in.”

Her hand remained hovering over the gash. Soft, blue light began to glow between them. Link felt the odd sensation of soothing warmth and cool on his wound all at once.

“Would that I could have healed these. They would not have scarred you so.”

Link had been so absorbed with Mipha’s healing that her words startled him. Out of necessity, the Zora princess was standing quite close. She was, he realized, referring to the half dozen scars that marred his chest, shoulders and arms. Mipha’s free hand was tracing the air just above them. The butterflies returned to Link’s stomach and multiplied ten-fold.

“Better that you did not, Princess,” Link replied ruefully. “Far better to remember the lessons I have learned. You should not have needed to heal me at all.”

Silence greeted his answer, and Link took it as the princess’s need to focus on the task at hand. He could feel the wound healing, its sting all but gone as the broken flesh knit itself together.

“Thank you, Link.”

He looked up to find the princess’ eyes brimming with unshed tears. Link was young and not tall, but Mipha’s small stature left her looking up at him. Standing as she was, her face was very near his.

“I could not have done otherwise,” Link returned quietly. _Hylia, but you are beautiful,_ he thought in a rush before that other voice nagged back at him. _Stop it! She’s a princess!_

“You saved my brother without thought for yourself,” Mipha continued, her voice breaking slightly. “Had you not been there, had I hesitated a moment longer…”

The light between Mipha’s hand and Link’s side winked out as the Zora princess collapsed in his arms, sobbing softly with the grief of what had only just been avoided. The latter voice in Link’s head fled, throttled by the arms that now encircled and held Mipha’s soft body close to his scarred and calloused chest...

 

* * *

 

“Link! Link!”

A splash of cold water jolted Link awake. He was laying on the bank grass, his possessions around him in dissarray; Sidon had clearly dragged him near the water in a frantic attempt to revive him.

“I’m all right, Sidon!” Link spluttered. He was grateful for the water, for it hid the tears that had sprung from his eyes. The memory of love’s sting and salve alike constricted his throat, making it hard for him to breathe.

The Zora prince helped Link sit up, a look of extreme concern on his face.

“What happened, my friend?” Sidon asked worriedly. “Are you taken ill in these sodden highlands?”

Link looked at the elder version of the Zora boy he now remembered, a prince -- _No, a friend._ \-- who was trusting him with his home and people.

Link made his decision.

“Sit down, Sidon,” he said slowly. “There is something you must know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, writing Sidon has been extremely fun thus far. Like Brigo, his character is hardly reserved, which is a great counter to Link's strong-but-silent approach. I'm eager for when the story expands enough to allow Sidon more chapters from his point of view, which will definitely begin taking place in Book 3.
> 
> I'd had this idea of Link and Mipha brewing for some time before I ventured to put it to "paper." I'm really grateful for how it turned out. In the game, we're allowed a glimpse of their relationship after it is already established. Here, we see it blossom for the first time. I absolutely tried to recall some of my first real-life brushes with affection when describing Link's battling emotions: the nervousness, the self-convincing, the second-guessing, the rush. I hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> If you did, feel free to give that bookmark/kudos button a click. Like or dislike this particular chapter? Drop a comment and let me know why or why not. Either way, grateful for your time.


	21. Zora's Domain

Sidon held his head in his hands in an attempt to stop the world from spinning. Even the sound of incessant rainfall seemed to needle the calm in which he tried to wrap himself. Noticing even that much burst his dam of concentration and released a new flood of thought.

The rain. Rain produced by the great machine his dear sister had piloted -- before it consumed her well before her life had run its course. It was Mipha who should be first in line for the throne. She should have lived long enough to rule, to love, to marry.

That last thought brought Sidon’s frenzied attention back to the present. Link. How could he have been so blind? Even now, with his eyes shutting out the world, he could see the same young man he had so admired as a calf. In those days, every young Zora had all but revered the Hylian Champion. Because of Mipha, Sidon had seen him more than most. How could he have not recognized the man himself?

 _You know why,_ Sidon thought bitterly. _We kept Mipha’s memory alive. All that surrounded her? Ruta, Link, Hyrule as it was… we let those things die. It was easier that way. Now the only ones who remember are those who keep the hate of their loss kindled. Perhaps, in their own way, those embittered Zora knew what truly mattered better than Father or I._

And what now? Could he present the embodiment of his people’s tragic past as the Zora’s best hope for their future? Would they accept Link’s help again?

_Will I?_

Sidon lifted his face from his hands, willing himself to look at the Hylian who stirred such vicious division among his people. His father had always been fond of Link. Bravery, skill, and honor were highly regarded by the Zora king. The elders, even those usually opposed to Hylians, had felt the same way about Link before the Calamity turned their esteem to hatred. His sister had, of course, been more than fond of him.

_And I? What do I feel for him now?_

When he was a calf, Sidon’s childlike admiration of Link had waged a constant war with jealousy. Mipha was his only sibling, and his want for her attention had been fierce indeed.

But those were the feelings of a child, which he had still been when Ruta took Mipha away. Now, with Link before him, Sidon felt the true sting of his sister’s loss.

That sting’s venom, however, did not touch him. How could it, with his own grief mirrored before him? Even now, Link’s eyes matched the sorrow that had broken his voice and wet his eyes during the telling of his tale. In Link, Sidon saw not his sister’s killer, but a fellow mourner.

Decided, the Zora prince rose to his feet.

“Forgive me for gathering my thoughts, Link,” Sidon said graciously. “It is much to absorb, especially for me.”

“I understand, Sidon,” Link humbly returned, and the Zora felt the weight of that understanding in his voice. “I will also understand if you would rather another take my place on your people’s behalf.”

Then Link stood, and Sidon saw understanding replaced by hard resolve.

“But I tell you now that if you choose to do so, that will not stop me from trying to board Vah Ruta,” the Hylian said firmly. “I do this not only for Mipha, but for all of Hyrule, which I cannot hope to save without all four Divine Beasts. If I must try without your help, I will.”

 _My, but what marvelous courage this Hylian has!_ Sidon thought admiringly. _A century’s sleep has not rusted this man’s valor!_

“I appreciate your honesty Link,” Sidon began as he knelt down to meet his companion at eye level. “But you will not fight Ruta alone. Though my heart is heavy, it is not blind. I do not blame you for my sister’s death, though I sense you may yet store some blame for yourself.”

Link’s eyes shifted downward at this. _What would I feel,_ Sidon wondered, _were I in his place?_

“You are not wrong, Sidon,” Link said finally. “I do set aside blame for myself. Perhaps too much, but it will not be eased until I set aright that which the Calamity made wrong.”

“Then let us begin together, my friend!” Sidon cried. More than ever, he felt a bond with this duty-bound Hylian. “I, too, long to see the Hyrule of old restored!”

A relieved smile broke the Hylian’s serious countenance, made soft what his sufferings had hardened. Sidon hoped the coming days would bring many more such moments for Link. Rising to his feet, the Zora prince motioned for his friend to join him.

“Come, Link!” Sidon beckoned heartily. “If we press, we shall arrive at the Domain by nightfall!”

 

* * *

 

As prince and Champion resumed their journey to Zora’s Domain, Sidon gave Link no small amount of credit. His own strides were more than double those of the Hylian, but Link made his own gait match the Zora’s without complaint.

They followed the winding path through the Zobodon Highlands, with Sidon answering a stream of questions from his new friend. _Or is he an old friend?_ he thought humorously. The knowledge he sought, however, only made Sidon feel more sympathy for the Hylian. There was so much he had forgotten, never mind what had transpired in the century since his fall to the Calamity. Many of Link’s questions were about the Zora or Hyrule at large, but every now and then one would touch on his old life. Sidon longed to feed his friend’s malnourished soul, but there was only so much he could remember from his early childhood.

“I am sorry, Link,” Sidon confessed at one point. “What little I remember of you is scattered at best.”

The Hylian took it all in stride, clearly resigned to the lot Hylia had left him. Sidon could only admire such quiet courage, and he tried to reward it with what memories he did have.

“I remember when Princess Zelda asked my sister to become the Zora Champion,” Sidon offered as they crossed the Oren Bridge to reach the river’s northern bank. “She met Mipha and me at Veiled Falls -- a waterfall just outside the Domain. I was playing in the catch pool while they spoke at the top. When they were done, my sister came down to carry me up falls. I had yet to learn the feat myself, at the time.”

Sidon felt himself smile at the recollection of his tiny, limited self. “I was so amazed when she leaped from the waterfall’s crest -- with me in tow! She performed a perfect mid-air twist before both of us landed on our feet. She was considered gifted even among our own people, and that is saying something, my friend.”

The Zora prince looked down, expecting to see an expression of warmth or gratitude on his friend’s face. Instead, Link’s mouth hung open.

“Zora can swim _up_ waterfalls?” he asked in amazement.

Sidon’s hearty laugh echoed off the mountain walls.

“Forgive me, Link!” the prince roared good-humoredly. “I forget how much you have forgotten! Your fascination is a refreshing reminder, however. I recall you used to watch the Zora warriors with as much jealousy as I when we were young!”

“It is a gift worth desiring,” Link confessed good-naturedly. “Truly, the Zora are the masters of Hyrule’s waters.”

Sidon allowed his friend to dwell on his people’s wonders for a moment. The conversation had sparked another memory to life, but it was not one he felt should be shared. Not yet, anyway.

The pair arrived at the path’s second bridge across the river-forged canyon. Like the Oren, Luto’s Crossing was the work of Zora masons. The silver-blue bridge spanned the river far below, but its width and solidity left no doubt that those who crossed did so in complete safety. A pair of Zora light posts marked each side of the bridge, which would glow at night should a traveler need to press on after sunset.

“Another of your people’s gifts, and one I will never grow weary of seeing,” Link offered generously.

“You do us credit, my friend, but I do not think Hylia will find me wrong to say it is but a hint of what my home offers,” Sidon returned with a grin.

“Speaking of your home,” Link began as they traversed Luto’s Crossing, “what will happen when we get there?”

“You will be introduced to my father and the Council of Elders,” Sidon replied seriously. “Frankly, I fear this will be as great a challenge as Ruta herself.”

“Would your father oppose my coming?” Link asked, and Sidon could tell he was troubled at the thought. “I would not drive a wedge between a king and his son, especially since the latter is my friend.”

“You need not concern yourself about that, Link,” Sidon reassured him. The path was now winding around the base of Ruto Mountain, a spike of stone rearing up from the highlands. “My father is not swallowed by the grief that has taken many of the elders. It is they who will resist your help, and some vehemently at that.”

That reminded Sidon of something.

“Fronk told me Bazz was less than warm toward you despite your having helped Mei,” Sidon recalled. “Is that true?”

“Yes,” Link confirmed, his face drawn in concern. “I did not know why.”

“His father, Seggin, is an elder,” Sidon explained. “More importantly, it was he who instituted the annual Champion Festival. It was originally meant,” he added wryly, “to commemorate the bravery of _all_ the Champions. It has taken on a more selfish meaning for those who especially grieve Mipha’s loss. Seggin is one such Zora. He will no doubt have passed on his dislike for you and Hylians in general to his son.”

“And many more feel this way?” Link asked with alarm. “What happens when they realize I am the same Link they despise? Is there a way to meet your father first? Or would it be wiser to simply confront Ruta without their leave?”

“Calm yourself, my friend!” Sidon encouraged him with a friendly hand on the much shorter Hylian’s shoulder. “I admit the situation is far from simple, but we have nothing to gain by adding deception to it. Do not underestimate my father -- or some of the other elders, for that matter. Not everyone will oppose your help.”

 _And even if enough of them do oppose it_ , Sidon thought to himself, _they will learn my sister would not._

The trees thinned as the pair cleared Ruto Mountain, allowing an easy view of the path’s sharp curve ahead. The light posts were beginning to glow as cloud-covered sunlight faded into dusk. Despite the uncertainty of the coming hours, Sidon allowed himself a broad smile at what his friend was about to see.

“Sir Link, chosen knight and Champion of Hyrule,” the prince announced with a grand gesture as they turned with the path, “welcome to Zora’s Domain.”

 

* * *

 

Link came to a complete halt to behold in awe the wonder before him. Zora’s Domain rose in unequaled splendor on the other side of a great bridge that served as its introduction. The entirety of the Zora’s home was constructed of the same combination of silver and luminous stone that made up the bridges Link had already seen. As Sidon had said, those had been only hints to their grand culmination.

Enormous pillars that shone with a soothing blue-green light rose from a great basin fed by several surrounding waterfalls. They supported the Domain itself, a series of three platforms surrounded by a magnificently elevated boulevard. Small waterfalls cascaded from each platform’s edge, a feature Link now understood to be as functional as it was fanciful for the gifted Zora.

As he and Sidon made their way into the Domain -- “This is the Great Zora Bridge,” the prince proudly informed him -- Link saw that every effort had been made to embellish this place with soothing beauty. The pair walked through a series of glowing archways made of sleekly carved stone. They and the rails along the bridge itself sported tastefully cut opals in their design, all flawless despite the constant wear of time and weather.

Yet Link’s eyes kept returning to the crowning piece of Zora’s Domain: an enormous fish with its tail fanned skyward. Symmetrical patterns made of pure luminous stone glowed brightly from the great carapace, adding an air of magic to its overwhelming presence.

  
The bridge ended with a small flight of steps that served as the entryway to the Domain itself. The silver-blue of Zora lights illuminated it entirely. To each side, gracefully curved bridges led away from the main concourse that fed into the heart of the Zora home. Link was momentarily surprised to see that water covered the surface of these smaller walkways before realizing they must help feed the platform’s cataracts.

“Even could I remember all of Hylia’s wonders,” Link finally whispered just loudly enough for Sidon to hear, “none would surpass this.”

Sidon’s great chest swelled with pride once more.

“You honor us yet again, Link,” the prince gratefully returned. “I would normally bask under such a compliment, but we have not the time. There are guards ahead. I must ask you to remove your hood. The one on the right is roughly my age. He may recognize you from times such as those you described at the riverbank. Worry not and leave the talking to me for now, my friend.”

Link nodded only too readily. When he had woken on the plateau, he had been desperate to find those who might know of him. Now he feared that moment, even as he knew it must come soon enough.

The guard Sidon had referenced stood to the right, his ebony skin and silver armor slick with rain water. He was indeed looking at Link intently, far more so than the younger female guard to the left.

“Prince Sidon,” the purple-skinned Zora hailed with a deep incline of her fish-crowned head. “May the waters of Hylia welcome you home. Word of your coming has, of course, preceded you.”

“Thank you, Dunma,” Sidon replied warmly. “And greetings to you as well, Rivan. Rivan?”

The male Zora guard had been peering so pointedly at Link that he did not immediately respond to Sidon’s salutation. Now caught in his preoccupation, Rivan looked slightly abashed. Even as he addressed his prince, however, Link could see him trying to get another glance at the Hylian newcomer.

“Greetings, Prince Sidon,” Rivan said distractedly. “May the waters of Hylia welcome you home. And greetings to you, Hylian. I must ask, have you ever journeyed to Zora’s Domain before…?”

“Forgive me, Rivan, but the king and Council await us,” Sidon interrupted smoothly. “You will know all that needs knowing afterward, my friend. Dunma, will you notify His Highness and Elder Muzu that we have arrived? Once they have convened, please notify me. We will be waiting in the nursery.”

Still bemused by Link’s appearance, Rivan stammered a passable reply before the prince swept Link onward. Dunma, meanwhile, saluted quickly before darting off on her assignment.

“Hylia smiles on us,” Sidon muttered. “Dunma is not prone to nonsense. Quickly, this way.”

Link strode quickly to keep up with the prince, who had started toward one of the twin staircases that circled up and around the central plaza. As they ascended, Link looked over the rail examine a statue carved into an extremely familiar likeness.

“Sidon, is that--?”

“Not now, Link,” Sidon cut him off with a shake of his shark-crowned head. “We must get you comfortably out of sight until the Council is fully gathered. I will not risk one or more of them seeing you before then and refusing to give you audience.”

Link did not argue. Stumbling across Bazz or his father before he was ready was the last thing he wanted, especially now that he was so close to truly beginning what he had set out to do.

The second level was just as impressive as the first. The top-most level supplied water to its channels while serving as a blue-green roof toward the back. It was there that Sidon took Link, who saw at once that this place served as the nursery his friend had mentioned. Small pools dotted the smooth floor, all separated by a trio of footbridges that merged at their center. No fewer than two dozen extremely young calves were there, either swimming in one of the pools or toddling about on small adventures under the adults’ careful supervision. The view out of the back was partially concealed by supporting pillars, but Link could still see the massive mountain waterfalls that fed the great lake basin.

Link had but a moment to appreciate the view, for Sidon was already pulling him very close behind the front stairway that led to the top level.

“The throne room is directly above us,” Sidon quietly informed him. “When enough time has passed to allow the Council to convene, we will go up.”

Link’s insides writhed as he mutely nodded. He felt waiting here for fear of being seen might be worse than facing a raging Divine Beast. _Hopefully, I’ll know that for myself soon enough_ , he thought humorlessly.

The Zora calves had noticed the odd pair enter the nursery. Nearly all of them eagerly approached the well-known prince, who immediately knelt to converse with his tiny admirers.

One small, blue-skinned Zora approached Link. The dorsal fin at the back of his head was extremely short, while his crown and arms bore several spots much lighter in color than the rest of him. Bright yellow eyes stared openly at the strange newcomer.

“You have a funny face!” the calf squeaked with disarming honesty before turning to the prince. “Prince Sidon, what is he?”

“His face is just fine, Tumbo,” Sidon laughed good-naturedly. “His name is Link, and he looks different because he’s a Hylian.”

Tumbo scrunched up his face in concentration.

“Hi-lee-on?” the youngster slowly repeated. “Never met one of those before! Are they nice?”

Sidon looked up at Link and grinned before answering the curious calf.

“He’s one of the nicest people I’ve ever met, Tumbo,” the prince reassured him. “More importantly, he is very brave. He saved our water sister, Mei, from lizalfos! Go on and tell your friends that you know him!”

Immediately convinced that he had just met someone of extreme importance, the little Zora raced away to do as Sidon suggested. Link raised an eyebrow questioningly.

“Sewing seeds of goodwill among your youth, I see,” he observed wryly. Sidon shrugged in reply without the slightest bit of shame.

“There are worse things than their parents hearing kinder tales of the Hylian hero from their children,” he laughed.

The friends’ laughter was cut short by the arrival of Dunma.

“Your Highness,” the Zora guard informed with a bow of her head, “King Dorephan and the Council await you.”

The prince rose from playing with the calves to formally address the female Zora in a manner Link could not help but admire. “Thank you, Dunma,” Sidon replied gravely. “We will present ourselves straightaway.”

With that, Link followed Sidon around the stairway and up its wide course. Now that the moment was at hand, the writhing mass of snakes in his stomach seemed to have gone to sleep and left only their oppressive weight behind. He tried to swallow, but Link’s throat did not seem to want to work correctly. He barely noticed the pair of guards at the top of the stairs, both of whom were doing their best to avoid studying him openly. Sidon said something to one of them, who left to briefly enter the throne room.

“Prince Sidon and his Hylian guest are ready to present themselves before the King and Council,” the guard announced.

 _Sidon is smart_ , Link thought. _Better they learn my name on our terms rather than theirs. But how long until they realize I am the same Link they still despise?_

The guard returned to interrupt these dark thoughts.

“The King and Council will see you now,” he notified them.

“Courage, Link,” Sidon whispered bracingly. “Courage and hope.”

Together, the Zora prince and Hylian Champion entered the throne room.


	22. The Champion Returns

It took all of Link’s will to enter the audience chamber, and for more than one reason.  The throne room would have been breathtaking without another soul inside it.

The ceiling was a kaleidoscope of silver and blue masonwork supported by a ring of pillars. Fountains fed their surplus into channels carved into the floor, which in turn fed the aqueducts and waterfalls throughout the Domain. Those areas not covered in water were mostly occupied. A set of three rising benches sat on either side of the audience chamber. The throne itself -- a gracefully wide masterpiece of silver-blue workmanship -- was slightly elevated from the floor and extended all the way to the ceiling. Directly in front of it rose a small dais. Both it and the back of the throne were adorned by a symbol that tugged at Link’s memory -- a trio of crescent moons, each touching the others along their outer curves.

Link kept his eyes straight ahead, not wanting to make eye contact with any of the elders that filled the benches. He wondered how many of them already found his face familiar. Perhaps one or two had already recognized him and were even now trying to restrain their rage.

_I can’t help that,_ Link told himself forcibly. _I must trust to myself, Sidon and his father._

Thinking of the latter returned Link’s attention back to the throne itself. He could not imagine a king that looked more the part, not even Rhoam. Dorephan of Zora’s Domain made his son look like the youth he was. His whale-like body was riddled with hard-won muscle and scars, but it was the king’s face that Link felt affirmed his station. Wise yellow eyes peered calmly from a visage that seemed to have witnessed a hundred lifetimes.

An enormous headtail fell over the Zora monarch’s left shoulder. Belt, bracelets, necklace and headtail ring were all wrought of silver and bejeweled with opal settings. Dorephan’s massive chest was partially covered by a red sash and three golden cords of office, all held together by a star-shaped pendant of silver. The diadem resting on his brow was also silver and fashioned into a sun with seven opal-topped rays emerging from its perfect circle. None of the grandeur distracted from Dorephan himself, who managed to impress and calm at the same time. Link could think of no other who would rule this proud people.

As he approached the dais with Sidon, however, Link could not help but notice a gathering murmur from the seated elders. Whether it was over the race he represented or the person they remembered him to be, he did not yet know.

Sidon reached the center of the dais and knelt. Link did likewise just to the left and behind him. Only when the murmuring ceased did the king speak. Link felt the tense bands inside him loosen considerably upon hearing Zora the king’s confident authority.

“May Hylia’s waters welcome you home, my son,” Dorephan warmly welcomed. “Like those who preceded you, we thank you for your service and pray that Hylia bless you for it.”

“My safe return by Hylia’s waters is blessing enough, Father,” Sidon answered formally. “She has guided me to one who is willing to help our people. I present him to you with the utmost confidence that he possesses both the skill and honor to do what we would ask of him.”

Silence greeted this, and Link thought he knew why. Sidon had not yet disclosed his name, an omission his father clearly had not missed. The prince stepped aside, allowing Dorephan a full view of the Hylian before him. Link remained kneeling, feeling he should do so only because he had not yet been addressed.

“We welcome you to Zora’s Domain, good sir,” Dorephan finally rumbled. “You have my thanks, as well as those of my people, for the help you so freely offer us.”

Link rose slowly, but he no longer tried to avert his face or eyes. As it had with Dorian in Hateno and his parents in Kakariko, some deeply buried memory seemed to waken in this moment of ceremony.

“I thank you for your welcome, Dorephan, King of the Zora, Guardian of the Domain, Will of the Water,” Link said while placing his right hand to his heart. “I thank Hylia that her waters have brought me to your home.”

The steady splash of fountains was the only flaw in the utter silence that greeted Link’s flawless formality. Link did not dare look to gauge the reaction of the elders. Dorephan’s eyes, however, had widened considerably. The Zora king leaned forward, his great head more than halving its former distance to the Hylian before him.

“You must forgive my son for not introducing you properly,” Dorephan said slowly. “I confess you seem familiar, and your greeting is one known only by those accustomed to our ways. What is your name, may I ask?”

There was no hesitation behind Link’s ice-hard eyes or clear, ringing voice.

“I am Link of Hyrule, Your Majesty,” he answered.

More than murmurs bloomed from the benches this time. Raised voices issued questions and, in some cases, demands. More than one hiss issued from the elders as well, and Link had to restrain himself so as not to look for their origin.

Instead, he kept his attention on Dorephan, who had sat back so suddenly that a considerable thud issued from the collision of back to throne.

“Link of Hyrule,” the king murmured in disbelief. “Surely you are not -- though come to think of it, you do look a great deal like… but it cannot be--”

“I am the same Link you knew a century ago,” Link confirmed loudly enough to cut short the commotion his introduction had produced. His voice resounded with a certainty he had not felt since awakening, declaring himself in a way he had been unable to do even to himself. He felt his confidence swell as Purah’s recalled words carried the echo of something lost but now found. “I am the Hylian Champion, the knight entrusted with the protection of Princess Zelda, wielder of the Sword That Seals The Darkness and trusted emissary of Rhoam, late King of Hyrule.”

Link heard his own echoes answer him. He was surprised at the silent response -- until a red-skinned elder stood and sharply accosted him.

“You declare much without proof to show for it, Hylian,” the Zora accused him. “Neither Zelda nor Rhoam live to support your ridiculous claim. Nor do I see the Sword That Seals The Darkness in your possession. On what basis do you expect us to believe you and the Link you claim to be are one and the same?”

“It is he,” Dorephan cut in sharply. Every head in the chamber turned in surprise toward the Zora king, who was observing Link with an extremely thoughtful expression. “I do not pretend to know how he stands alive and well before us, but this is the same Link I saw grow up with my own eyes. The same who fought alongside my daughter. Now that the name matches the memory his face begets, I recognize him for who he is.”

Further silence reigned as the weight of Dorephan’s words sunk into each Zora in attendance. Link allowed himself a quiet sigh of relief. He felt extraordinarily lighter after having embraced aloud who he was. Though he had no idea what would happen next, his new-found conviction replaced whatever apprehension he had felt before announcing himself.

“If he is the same Link that oversaw our doom, why let him stand there in peace?” one ebony-skinned elder snarled suddenly. He was standing, his sagging and wrinkled face twisted in rage and loathing. He pointed a clawed finger at Link, spittle forming at the corners of his mouth. “He must pay for the blood and tears we have shed! He must answer for the lives we have lost and the rain-filled hell that besieges us! If he can live one hundred years without age or death claiming him, let the next hundred be filled with payment for what we have lost!”

The elder’s words seemed to open a floodgate of furious protest.

“He is a demon revived by Ganon to harm us once more!”

“Throw his cursed body to the rocks below!”

“Justice! Kill the one who all but slew our Mipha!”

Several of the elders rose to their feet in anger. Link was loath to defend himself. It would only further incite the elders against him, but neither could he allow himself to be set upon by vengeance-filled Zora. Just when he thought there might be no other recourse, Dorephan’s voice boomed over everything.

“BE SEATED,” the Zora king thundered. “REMEMBER YOUR PLACE AND STATION, ELDERS OF THE DOMAIN.”

Shock greeted Dorephan’s unyielding command. All but one Zora resumed their seats: the ebony-skinned elder who had first spoken out against Link. Outrage battled desperation as he pleaded with his king.

“Surely, Your Highness, you do not intend to entrust your people to the same Hylian whose failure cost you your daughter?” the Zora asked hoarsely. “Surely, you do not--”

“DO NOT SHAME MY DAUGHTER’S MEMORY BY INVOKING IT FOR YOUR OWN ENDS,” Dorephan knelled. “BE SEATED OR BE DISMISSED, SEGGIN. I SHALL NOT TELL YOU AGAIN.”

Seggin’s eyes bulged and his throat constricted. Choking on rage and shame alike, the elder resumed his seat. Link was more troubled, however, by the green-skinned Zora at his side. The elder was studying him intently, his eyes narrowed in cold calculation.

“How and why are you here once more, Link of Hyrule?” the ray-headed Zora asked in a tone that told Link he would very much distrust whatever answer he heard.

“After I fell to the Calamity, Zelda and the Sheikah healed my wounds,” Link answered firmly. “The price was a century’s time and my memory, both of which I have only begun to recover.”

Link stepped forward, his eyes blazing with fire kindled by his own words.

“I am here to take Vah Ruta from Ganon’s control, to take back all the Divine Beasts,” he blazoned. “When that is done, I and those who would go with me will march on Hyrule Castle. We will slay Ganon, as was our intent a century ago. We will finish what we began, and Hyrule’s peoples will again know safety and freedom.”

Link’s last words echoed off the silvery ceiling as the elders digested them. More than one Zora appeared visibly moved by his speech. Others, including the ray-crowned green and the one called Seggin, appeared even more opposed to his presence.

Finally, the most elderly of the gathered Zora stood and pointed a gnarled, red-skinned hand directly toward him.

“I remember you, Link of Hyrule, even if you do not remember me,” he said tremulously, his eyes brimming with tears. “I was there when we entrusted you with the safety of our kingdom -- including that of our late princess. Now you ask us to trust you again. Why should we believe you will succeed where you have already fallen?”

The question cut deep, running parallel to the darkest of Link’s own thoughts since awakening. By pressing forward, he had not allowed himself time to answer it privately. Now, with the might and authority of Zora’s Domain before him, he heard his voice ring with certainty.

“I cannot foresee what will happen save for this,” Link declared firmly. “I will not rest until Mipha -- and Hyrule -- are avenged. If I fail, those of you who hold my life as payment will be satisfied. By Hylia’s light, I swear it.”

_By Hylia’s light._ He had not meant to say it. As it had with Dorian and the Sheikah, instinct had seized his tongue, made him utter words unremembered until the moment they were spoken. A brief image of himself, kneeling in a circle of stone, came to him. Then it was gone, leaving only the silence that greeted Link’s promise. The aged questioner appeared conflicted, but Link could tell his words had only strengthened the previously formed opinions of those set against him.

“You have voiced your questions and concerns,” Dorephan finally said to the Council. “We will make this decision as we have always done. Those in favor of accepting Link’s aid?”

Many hands of varying colors were raised aloft. Link was unsure whether they formed a majority, and the uncertainty sent panic lancing through him. The feeling eased only slightly upon seeing the eldest of the councilors raise his weathered hand in support. The Zora king quietly counted the votes before nodding.

“Those opposed?”

A healthy number of hands shot up with vicious enthusiasm. Seggin glared daggers at Link while holding his own clawed hand aloft. When Dorephan finished counting, his great sigh rumbled through the chamber.

“Twelve for and twelve against,” the Zora king murmured. “We are truly divided my friends, and it gives me no pleasure to tilt the scales one way or the other. But I will decide as I feel I must.”

The tension in the chamber was palpable. Link remained standing in respectful silence, willing himself to focus only on Dorephan as he addressed the disunited Council.

“I loved my daughter,” the Zora monarch began, and Link felt the bone-deep sorrow in Dorephan’s voice. “Her loss was a spear to my heart, as it was to us all. Unlike several of you, however, I do not lay blame at Link’s feet. It is Ganon who turned the Divine Beasts against us, the same Demon King who sought to destroy our kingdom before he was finally kept at bay.”

Angry mutterings bubbled from the Council, but Dorephan silenced them with a stern glare. Then, for reasons Link could not fathom, the king looked pointedly at his son and nodded before continuing. Link saw Sidon hasten out of the throne room. Several elders noted the prince’s departure with suspicion, but their attention was drawn back to Dorephan’s address.

“If our desire is truly to see Vah Ruta’s wrath turned aside, I can think of no one better to do it than Hyrule’s Champion,” the king forcefully explained. “Many of you remember Link as a swordsman with no equal. More importantly, I feel confident that he possesses the means to remove this threat from our kingdom.”

Link did not miss Dorephan’s meaningful glance toward the Sheikah Slate hanging from his belt. He gave the Zora king mental credit for noticing such a diminutive yet important detail. Just then, Sidon re-entered the audience chamber bearing an aged chest in his arms. Dorephan also saw his son’s return.

“Above all, my friends,” Dorephan resounded, “I would tell you this: could my daughter speak to us now, she would urge us to accept Link’s help. Accept it and thank him for it, for she esteemed him above all.”

With a nod from his father, Sidon opened the chest and bent over to retrieve its contents. When the Zora prince stood up again, he held several pieces of silvery armor in his hands. Link’s simple curiosity -- the armor appeared much too small for a full-grown Zora -- was cut short by an immediate uproar from the Council.

“Surely you do not intend to give this outsider the armor crafted by Mipha herself!” a dark blue elder snarled above the commotion. “He may be the Champion of old, but Mipha had no such relationship with him! She crafted those for the Zora she would marry, not this Hylian filth!”

“You are wrong, Trello!” Sidon passionately cried. “My sister’s heart was not won by a fellow Zora, but by this man! It was for him she forged the armor all maidens make for their intended!”

Link’s head spun. _Their intended?_ Surely Sidon could not mean...

“You ask us to believe such nonsense only when he is just arrived?” Seggin spat. “It is too convenient by far. I knew your sister better than most, Sidon, and she gave no sign of affection for this… this _man_!”

“How could she, Seggin?” Dorephan interrupted forcefully. “Even before the Calamity, you -- and several others here -- openly mistrusted Hylians. How could she entrust her feelings to those whose hearts would be hardened against them?”

“Again, a convenient story!” Seggin hissed. “I do not believe it!”

Link nearly did not believe it himself. Then he recalled the feeling of Mipha in his arms, and the mutual realization that something far beyond friendship had blossomed between them. The lack of further recollection gnawed at him. What had they shared that would lead Mipha to even consider…?

Dorephan’s voice rumbled over Link’s scattered thoughts.

“You accuse me of falsehood, Seggin?” the Zora king challenged, causing the former Demon Sergeant’s eyes to widen in alarm. “Then you neither know nor respect your king as much as I was led to believe. But very well, I will humor your mistrust long enough to reveal it for the blind foolishness it is. Link, don the tunic and armor, please.”

Link had been so immersed in the heated exchange that he was nonplussed at being suddenly thrust into its center. Feeling the weight of eyes both curious and suspicious, Link removed the sword belt from his back before stripping off his own cloak and tunic. Murmurs rose at the brief sight of his scarred body before he donned the Zora armor.

The tunic — which in and of itself sparked further discussion among the observing Zora — felt foreign but comfortable. Like the Sheikah garments,it fit him like a second skin. He felt insulated, yet pleasantly cool. At Sidon’s encouragement, Link also donned a pair of silver pauldrons and vambraces. They felt much lighter than regular armor, but something told Link they would yield far less readily. On the front of the tunic, just below the neck, was sewn a silver pendant with a gleaming white scale at its center.

Satisfied that all was in order, Link turned to face Dorephan and the Council. Overwhelming silence greeted the Hylian wearing Zora armor that fit him perfectly.

“You see now, my friends?” Dorephan said softly. “My daughter loved Link. I do not believe she would have us cast him aside now.”

The green-skinned elder stood to break the silence that had followed the king’s pronouncement.

“I taught your daughter, Your Highness,” Muzu began in slow, measured tones. “I treasured her, as so many of us did. Had this Hylian not failed her, she would still be with us. Now you ask us to place our fate in his hands once more. It is too much, Your Highness. It is too much.”

Without another word, Muzu left the bench and departed the throne room. After a brief, shocked silence at the elder’s exit, Seggin and Trello also stood and and withdrew, though each took the time to glare malevolently at Link on their way out. Four others followed suit, leaving the remaining elders, Dorephan and Sidon to contemplate the magnitude of what had just taken place. It was the Zora king who finally spoke.

“By final vote, it is decided that we will accept Link’s aid,” Dorephan formally stated before softly adding, “Hylia help him and us in the days to come.”

 

* * *

 

 

Sidon breathed a sigh of relief as the last of the elders exited the throne room. Only he, his father and Link remained. The latter was already removing the Zora tunic and armor and redressing in his own clothes.

“I am sorry, Your Majesties,” Link said heavily as he redid the clasp on his cloak. “It was not my intent to further divide your people.”

“It was nothing you did, Link,” Dorephan heavily assured him while rising to his massive height. “Your presence merely exposed a wound that has lain infected for one hundred years. Perhaps our success can purge it. I pray to Hylia it will.”

“Frankly, I am astonished seeing you in that armor didn’t convince them to accept you,” Sidon sad disbelievingly. “It is clear my sister made it for you, Link. Her seal of approval should have been enough.”

“Hearts clinging to one point of view are blind to all proof to the contrary, my son,” Dorephan observed sadly. “We have done what we can to help them see. Now we must attend to more pressing matters than petty grievances.”

Sidon nodded in agreement with his father’s wisdom.

“Link, I hope you are still willing to help our people despite their... welcome,” Sidon said ashamedly. To his delight, his friend answered with what was quickly becoming his trademark determination.

“I told you before, Sidon, I would confront Ruta with or without your people’s approval,” Link answered fixedly. “I meant what I said to your elders. I will not rest until Mipha is avenged, Zelda saved and Ganon slain.”

“You mean to say that Zelda is as alive today as you are?” Dorephan asked incredulously.

“Only just, Your Highness,” Link admitted as he buckled his sword belt over his shoulder. “Even now she fights to keep Ganon at bay within Hyrule Castle, buying us time to gather the Divine Beasts and Hyrule’s people.”

“Amazing,” Dorephan breathed. “I would ask you a hundred questions more, but all of them can wait. First I must bear the burden of asking even more than what my son has already told you, Link.”

Sidon listened in astonishment as his father related Seggin’s failed venture, the loss of the shock arrows, and the necessary resolution to retrieve them. By the end, he was quivering with indignation.

“To think that a Zora of Seggin’s honor would do such a thing,” the prince said incredulously. “I would not have imagined it of him.”

Sidon’s umbrage cooled upon noticing Link’s visage, which was drawn in deep concern.

“Link?” the prince asked his friend. “What is it?”

The Hylian closed his eyes as if in pain before shaking his head and answering.

“Nothing, Sidon,” Link replied slowly. “I am just remembering the last time I faced a lynel. I am not afraid,” he added quickly, “but neither am I blind to the danger.”

Sidon felt pride surge on behalf of his friend, who seemed to greet everything with a sincere dignity he greatly admired. His father also seemed understanding of Link’s plight.

“I do not pretend to know the best way to go about this, Link,” Dorephan confessed. “A demonspawn’s senses are keen. Were I to send a party of soldiers in support, the beast would hear them before they were within an arrow’s reach, and I doubt fewer would be of much help against a lynel with shock arrows at its disposal.”

“You said it resides at the top of a nearby mountain?” Link asked suddenly.

_He’s onto something,_ Sidon thought with a smile.

“Ploymus Mountain,” the prince confirmed quickly. “Its peak extends over the reservoir and is the highest point in the kingdom.”

“It would take me too long to climb,” Link said with crestfallen realization. “Once I reach the summit, I doubt I would have strength enough to face the lynel.”

“Hylia is with you Link,” Dorephan assured him with a warm smile. “The armor you donned is more than mere clothing. My daughter’s love and magic endowed the wearer with the power to swim as a Zora. With them, you may ascend quickly to Shatterback Point. Mipha made them,” the king added gently, “with the hope you would one day swim the waters of the Domain together.”

Sidon saw Link look over at the still-open chest that contained the Zora armor. The prince felt his own heart break as the Hylian’s face threatened to crumble in grief.

“My sister loved you, Link,” the prince added softly. “Let that love see you through this task now, so that you may honor her with your tears after it is done.”

Sidon was sorely tempted to applaud as he witnessed Link gather his emotions and nod resolutely. He felt his father’s massive hand rest on his shoulder.

“Well said, my son,” Dorephan said quietly.

Link, meanwhile had begun pacing a small circuit in the throne room. Sidon saw his right hand half-consciously touch the odd, rectangular object hanging from his belt. Link had described the Sheikah Slate in the broadest sense during their journey to the Domain. Sidon understood only that it was a tool that would wrest control from Vah Ruta when the time came.

Finally, Link stopped and appeared to nod to himself. _He has it_ , Sidon thought excitedly. The Hylian turned and faced the Zora king and prince.

“Luck must favor us, but I believe this will work...”

 

* * *

 

Bazz paced impatiently in his father’s cave. The waiting gnawed at him, but he had not dared linger near the audience chamber. His father’s plan needed time and secrecy to play out, and he did not trust himself to either with the Hylian so close at hand. _Hylia send the ill-named filth far from here!_ he viciously prayed.

Three long-awaited splashes greeted Bazz’s thoughts, and he rushed to hurriedly greet his father, Trello and Muzu. The trio shook the excess water from themselves before giving vent to a rage even Bazz had not expected.

“How?” Seggin’s howl was punctuated with a closed fist to the rock wall. “Blessed Hylia, how?”

“Demon witchcraft!” Trello snarled in reply. “It must be! Nothing else would keep that cursed Hylian alive so long only to send him back into our midst!”

“Father!” Bazz cried in an attempt to arrest Seggin’s attention. “What happened? What do you mean the Hylian was sent back?”

“What your father means,” Muzu answered with a startling contrast of calm, “is that the Hylian is the same Link that failed our people a century ago. The very same.”

Bazz sat down at once, the shock of the news momentarily dashing coherent thought. The elders, however, were already continuing their collective outburst.

“And still our king accepts him!” Trello raged. “He and his son forgive him all and welcome him with open fins! They diminish our loss and call it kindness!”

“The Council voted to accept his aid?” Bazz asked incredulously. “How could they, Father, knowing who he is and what he did?”

“Because they are blinded by our king’s soft words and softer spine!” Seggin spat. “A century’s worth of uneasy peace has blurred the worth of his own kin, and now we risk repeating the most costly mistake in our people’s history.”

Bazz felt his father’s anger seep into him, felt his teeth bare in furious protest.

“Calm yourselves, brethren.”

Bazz’s own expression mirrored Trello and Seggin’s amazement at Muzu’s seeming nonchalance.

“How can you remain calm, Muzu?” Trello demanded. “Your pupil’s demise walks amongst us! His very presence mocks our grief, yet you would have us sit here and accept it without raising a fin?”

The ray-crowned Zora emitted a wet snort through widely dispersed nostrils.

“You give vent to your spleen and cry injustice when you fail to see that Hylia has laid vengeance at your feet,” Muzu explained dryly.

“I was not too blind to see you do the same and depart without the king’s leave!” Trello returned accusingly.

“You think the king would not have found it suspicious had I, of all Zora, willingly remained in support of the Hylian?” Muzu answered with mock long-suffering. “Dorephan is as wise as he is forgiving. He would have seen through any pretense I might have offered. Instead we are but a few of many who share the same, aimless rage.”

A vicious grin split Muzu’s wide, aged face.

“The Hylian, however, will find out too late that we are more than that,” Muzu continued. “As I said, do not spurn the gift we have been given. We have stewed in helpless grief for a century. Now we are granted the opportunity to rid ourselves of its source.”

Understanding dawned on the other three Zora. Bazz felt his heart quicken and his brain race with half-formed thoughts of just revenge. The feeling was intoxicating, and part of him longed to seize his spear from its place on the wall then and there.

The young Zora’s bloodlust, however, was momentarily cooled by the shared concerns of the other two elders.

“Had I my youth, I would challenge… _him_ ,” Seggin said with reluctant distaste. “Our lives’ waters are nearly run, Muzu, while _he_ retains the strength of his youth. I detest admitting it, but the Hylian’s skills are formidable.”

“As are the lynel’s,” Muzu reminded them readily. “As we discussed, we need only rely on our own strength if the Hylian survives the demonspawn and Vah Ruta, and there is no guarantee he will.”

“Dorephan is no fool,” Trello said bitterly. “He will concoct a plan to help the Hylian, one that tips the scales in his favor.”

“That is why we must be ready to tip them back,” Muzu answered smugly. “We need only do that much before risking open opposition.”

Seggin gnawed his lip in indecision while Trello frowned at the options laid before him. Bazz, however, approached the eldest councilor.

“Elder Muzu,” he said with a bow of his head, “If vengeance can heal my people, then let it be mete out through me. Your youth is gone? Use mine. Let me serve the role I have already sworn to perform: to protect my people against all that would harm them.”

Muzu and Trello looked questioningly at Seggin, who stood and approached his son. His father’s eyes bored into his own. Large, wrinkled hands rested on muscled young shoulders.

“You would risk your king’s wrath to do this, my son?” Seggin asked searchingly. “You would risk your life to avenge those you love?”

Bazz nodded forcefully, his yellow eyes brimming with fierce tears.

“Very well,” Muzu said decisively. “This is what you must do…”


	23. Yearning

The moon reached its midnight zenith, effectively illuminating the entirety of Kakariko Village. Rainbow roofs of straw showed up pale under the night’s light while drowning small paths in pools of contrasting darkness. Those were repeatedly dispelled by the constant movement of torches, the people bearing forestalling the spell of sleep that usually stole over Kakariko at this hour. Nearly every adult was awake and moving. The Sheikah were preparing for war.

Many saw to horses that would speed their march, fitting them with light armor and supplies alike. Others divided up food stores, than set portions of everything inside individual haversacks which were in turn handed out to waiting warriors. Still more Sheikah lined up single-file outside the armory, each receiving the full complement of weapons: slightly curved long and short swords, sinuously bladed spears, horned bows and full quivers, and elongated shields bearing the single eye sigil.

Though every Sheikah sported the same chalk white shade of hair, their heights varied as much as any other people. Paya was grateful for that now as she slowly advanced in the armory line. Amid a sea of activity and raised balaclavas, the young Sheikah was optimistic about her chances of remaining unnoticed. Only one pair of eyes worried her in particular, and she had not seen her grandmother since that night’s preparations had begun.

 _Please, Hylia_ , Paya prayed for the umpteenth time, _please let her not see me_. Never before in her extremely timid life had Paya attempted to directly disobey the woman who doubled as her elder and grandmother. Then again, she had never felt this way about a man before, either.

The tales, it turned out, were all too true. A perfectly level-headed woman would indeed cast aside all common sense for the mere hope of a man’s attention. One week after Link’s departure, she was desperate to feel his eyes on her again, to hear him almost say the words she herself had stopped him from uttering. Just thinking of him actually saying them made her heart flutter anew.

Almost as soon as Link left, Paya had berated herself twenty kinds of fool. In the little time he had been in Kakariko -- no more than two days --  she had managed to be cold, angry, submissive, absent and entirely too forward. What could Link possibly think of her after being tossed about like a bass on a line?

 _He probably hates me_ , part of her sobbed before her braver self interceded.

_He said -- almost said -- he wants to be with you. He did. Now he is alone in a world that mostly hates him, enduring hardships while setting out to accomplish the near-impossible. He doesn’t hate you. He needs you._

_Don’t be absurd!_ her prim and proper self scolded. _He is the Hero of Legend reborn! The Champion of Hyrule! He slew armies with naught but his sword! He received council from Grandmother! He knows what he’s doing and can do it better without you fawning over his every footstep!_

 _He doesn’t remember anything about Hyrule!_ she protested stubbornly. _His friends are gone, slain by a lynel. He needs a guide! I can help him with that!_

 _Fine!_ she sarcastically conceded. _He needs you. How will you find him? All you know is that he’s in Zora’s Domain! What if he’s gone by the time you get there? What if you get lost or slain trying to find him? Do you want that on his conscience?_

 _I’ll find him!_ she answered gallantly. _I can track as well as any Sheikah! I know where he’s going! As soon as I leave--_

_\-- If you leave…_

Which brought Paya back to her present dilemma. She was next in line, now, and she nervously approached the extremely muscular smith charged with distributing arms. Like any Sheikah, Paya was familiar with almost all manner of weaponry. Even if Grandmother was looking for her, there was almost no chance of being noticed. The thought did nothing to quell the nervous butterflies swirling about her insides now.

It was her people, Paya decided. As one, they had decided to march to Link’s aid. Paya would do the same, albeit in a manner of her choosing. Grandmother was content to pull strings from atop her precious cushions and _guide_ Link. Paya wanted… well, she wasn’t sure exactly what she wanted, only that it would be much more personably helpful to Link. Why should he have to be brave alone when someone who cared for him could be _with_ him?

Paya’s breath quickened as she accepted the reins of a horse. She was all but free! Grandmother would surely issue a parting address, but what hope did she have of spotting her in a see of masks in the middle of the night? When her children were old enough, Paya would tell them of the night their mother had hoodwinked the great Impa.

“Ahem, Lady Paya? Lady Impa requests your presence.”

Paya stopping breathing, an action her hammering heart immediately protested before plummeting to somewhere near her stomach.Wide eyes turned to meet Cado’s scarred and emotionless visage. The Sheikah captain casually pulled her aside from the otherwise undisturbed flow of warriors. Without another word, Cado turned and began walking. Paya sullenly followed him to and up the wooden stairs she knew all too well.

Cado opened the door only long enough to allow Paya entry, after which he abruptly turned, exited and closed the door behind him. At the far end of the usual long running rug sat Impa. The Sheikah elder said nothing, deigning only to raise one white eyebrow at her granddaughter.

“You could not wait to address your people first?” Paya shouted as she angrily lowered her balaclava. “Keeping your granddaughter tied to her house is more important than saving Hyrule, is it?”

“Nothing is more important than saving Hyrule,” Impa answered smoothly while pouring tea into a pair of tiny white cups. “Join me for some tea.”

“I don’t want tea!” Paya shouted helplessly. “I want to leave! I want to be with Link!”

“Is that why you rejected his advances?” Impa asked before waving aside the rage mottling Paya’s face. “I did not spy on you. The boy looked confused after he’d seen you. If he did not have feelings for you at the time, he would not have given a green rupee for what you thought of him. But he was upset, which means he cared, which means you rejected him -- as most young women do to retain some pretense at control over their fast-fluttering hearts.”

Doing her best to account for and dismiss her grandmother’s infuriating logic, Paya pounced on the one nugget that seemed to support her actions.

“So Link does care for me!” she cried triumphantly, stepping forward to witness her grandmother in defeat.

“He did,” Impa said in a clipped, practical voice. “He no longer will.”

“Because of what I said?” Paya asked incredulously. “No! Link will understand why I rejected him the first time! I’ll explain it to him. Unlike you, I have no compunctions about being honest him!”

“It will have nothing to do with you at all,” Impa responded in that maddeningly calm tone of hers. “Link has begun to re-learn who he is. It will nearly break him to remember the love he has lost, let alone give place to someone new. What’s more, he won’t.”

“How do you know?” Paya demanded, already discounting her grandmother’s words as baseless. Who could Link have possibly loved before the Calamity? Even dry history books would have mentioned something about that! “Have you spoken with him since he left? Or is it something else? Do you have so little faith in my ability to earn a man’s love?”

“Girl, this has nothing to do with you and everything with Link,” Impa snorted. “You should be thanking me.”

“Thanking you?” Paya laughed sardonically. “What were all those years encouragement and wifely practices for? To _not_ chase my heart’s desire when he finally entered my life? You want me to thank you for telling me _not_ to seek love?”

“You should thank me,” Impa repeated firmly while delicately setting down her teacup, “for saving you the pain of a broken heart. I knew Link when I was your age, Paya, and I can tell you he has loved more deeply than you could ever dream. He could be unearthing the agony of that love even now. Once he does, the feelings you stir in him will be but faint echoes of what he once knew. I ask you: do you want that reflected in his eyes when you look into them again?”

Tears such as those Paya had not shed since she was a child sprang to her eyes.

“That won’t-- He wouldn’t-- He will see--”

“He will _not_ see what you want him to see,” Impa mercilessly interrupted. “You could not claim his love anymore than one that is not Ganon could claim his hate. Both are tied to the Calamity, beyond which we would be selfish to hope for anything. Seek love elsewhere, granddaughter, for you will not find it with Link of Hyrule.”

“You are wrong,” Paya gritted through her tears. “I will be there for him on his quest. That will be the new bond between us. You would have him cling to the past rather than embrace the present. That’s where I will be for him, and that’s why he will love me more than a memory.”

Impa sighed and stood up, which only brought her head to Paya’s thighs. The diminutive Sheikah leader gently pounded the rug once with her walking stick. Cado entered immediately.

“Ensure that Paya is prepared to leave,” Impa informed her captain. “She will accompany your troops to the Wetlands Stable. After that, her journey is her own.”

Paya turned in surprise from Cado’s perfect bow to her grandmother.

“You’re letting me go?” she asked disbelievingly.

“You are right that I have encouraged you to love unflinchingly and with confidence,” Impa admitted heavily. “Though I know in my heart what you will find, I cannot in good conscience forbid you from seeking happiness. I am no Gerudo soldier, scornful of love’s power to move the most stubborn of stones. Go with my love, granddaughter, and may Hylia walk with you.”

Paya was forced to kneel in order to accept her grandmother’s offered embrace, which she returned in quiet disbelief. It was not until she was riding with her Sheikah brothers and sisters at a quick trot toward Sahasra Slope that Paya fully embraced her newfound freedom -- and the vast world in which she was about to live it.

 

* * *

 

 

Impa remained standing at the end of the long rug even after a knock sounded at the door. _I must be troubled to not hear Cado until now_ , she thought to herself with a frown.

“Enter!” Impa invited.

The taciturn captain opened the door and approached until he was just shy of Impa, at which point he bowed and remained so until addressed.

“May Hylia bless you, Little Brother,” she said absent-mindedly. “You are welcome here.”

“May Hylia bless you, Lady Impa,” Cado returned formally. “I thank you for welcoming me here.”

Silence reigned between elder and captain until the latter decided to speak first.

“I will have her watched as long as she is within our sight,” Cado quietly assured her.

“There will be no need for that,” Impa said dismissively. “My thoughts dwell on the hero of Hyrule, not the granddaughter of Impa.”

“We know where he is,” Cado said matter-of-factly. “That he has gotten this far is, in itself, a victory.”

“I hope so,” Impa agreed. “I trust Dorephan, but that is all I know to this point. Would that you could be at Link’s side as easily as you were in the wetlands, my friend. His safety and our knowledge would be all but assured.”

Cado bowed in quiet acceptance of the compliment, but his next words were tied to a different topic.

“What of this patrolman?” the Sheikah asked. “Do you trust him to do as you requested?”

“More than most,” Impa admitted. “That will have to do. Link has little reason or desire to return and report to me. For now, the best signs are the towers. Each is a beacon of hope and a sign of Link’s progress. We can only hope more are lit in the coming days.”

“Yes, Lady Impa,” Cado acknowledged with a final bow. It was not until he was nearly through the door again that Impa delayed his departure.

“Cado,” she reminded him, “you have not asked how long the Sheikah are to hold the stable.”

The unflappable captain turned and bowed in response.

“Neither have you said, Lady Impa,” Cado replied. “Thus I assumed it was either until the enemy is defeated -- or we are all slain.”

Impa searched her captain’s hooded expression for any sign of unease, resignation, or bitterness. As usual, she found nothing.

“Thus let it be,” Impa finally affirmed. “Though I pray to Hylia the latter will not come to pass.”

“As do I, Lady Impa,” Cado responded with all the emotion of stone. “As do I.”


	24. Shatterback Point

Link awoke the following morning feeling refreshed, his mind clear and focused on the task at hand. The previous day’s events -- remembering Mipha, arriving at Zora’s Domain, revealing himself to Sidon, Dorephan and the Council -- were a blur that did not weigh on him as it might have just a few days before.

_I am Link of Hyrule._

Too many holes in his memory yet remained. So much was left to be done. Yet accepting aloud who he was had unburdened him. The responsibilities Link faced no longer felt like ill-fitted clothes or a mistakenly delivered parcel. They were his, and claiming them -- and himself -- no longer felt foreign, but familiar and right.

_Hylia knows your heart, and She will place you where you are needed most. Never doubt Her -- or yourself, my son._

“I won’t, father,” Link vowed quietly to himself as he secured his sword to his back. “Not anymore.”

Link exited the beautifully ornate guest wing where he had slept, his bed one of several within the place. Sidon had told him that before the Calamity Hylians, Gorons and even Gerudo often come in and out of Zora’s Domain to eagerly to trade with their water-bound hosts. Vah Ruta’s outburst had halted even the smallest trickle of Hylian traders that remained since the Calamity. None remained that were willing brave their wares or lives on the sodden mountain path.

Sidon and Dorephan had accompanied Link to the guest wing the previous night, with the Zora receiving a broad explanation of the Hylian Champion’s return to the world of the living. _No doubt Sidon has told him more by now,_ Link thought to himself. He was fine with that. Dorephan invited trust even had he not known the Zora to be a friend from his previous life.

Though exhausted, Link had been glad to stop and appreciate the illuminated statue he had only glimpsed upon entering the Domain. Mipha’s small stature and kind features were captured perfectly in the carved stone. Her delicate face smiled gently upon passerby. And though it was pointed downward in a position of peace, the artist had not failed to include the same fearsome trident Link now so clearly remembered.

His fascination with the statue had been distracted by a faint orange light directly behind it. Link had been shocked to find that its source was an active Sheikah shrine nestled into a Zora-made alcove. Dorephan had dismissed the pair of guards stationed there. He and his son marveled when Link used his slate to activate the shrine, changing its light to a bright, lurid blue and opening its interlocked door.

“What do you know of this shrine, Your Highness?” Link had asked. “Do your histories hint at what lies within?”

“Only vaguely,” Dorephan had affirmed. “Even among my people, the text is ancient. ‘It will open to one who is friend of the water, but not of the water, for those of the water cannot wield the weapon within.’ Naturally, King Rhoam and Princess Zelda were quite keen to enter in the days leading up to the Calamity’s return. Their efforts, however, yielded nothing.”

Link had been paying rapt attention, but found himself disappointed at the end of the tale. For an instant, hope had roared to life within him. Perhaps The Sword That Seals The Darkness lay within the shrine’s depths. Logic doused the idea completely. The shrine had lain closed for an age, and he had borne the Sword only a century ago.

Still, Link was sorely tempted to enter the shrine and retrieve whatever it contained. Sidon had voiced a similar line of thought.

“Should tomorrow go ill, such a weapon would serve Link in good stead, father,” the prince offered.

“Hopefully, it will not come to that,” Dorephan sagely returned. “But I leave it to you, Link. You bear the Sheikah Slate. You have every right to enter.”

In his mind’s eye, Link once again glimpsed the lynel near Mount Lanayru, its unstoppable rage, and Dorian’s face melting under its onslaught.

“I will not leave your people’s hope to any chance that can be avoided,” Link finally said. “I will enter.”

Remembering the Guardian he had faced at Kakariko, Link had been on the verge of telling the king and prince to not follow should he fail to return. He decided against it. Such a warning might convince Dorephan the risk was too great. To Link, knowingly leaving behind a weapon that could tip the scales in his favor was an even greater gamble.

He had entered, descending on the familiar Sheikah-sigiled platform into a vast chamber filled with strange designs and blue light. He had found no test waiting for him, only the familiar sight of a long-dead Sheikah seated within a chamber of blue light.

_“To you who sets foot in this shrine, I am Tahno O’ah. By entering this place, you have already proven your worth. Take our offering with Hylia’s blessing.”_

The Sheikah’s remains had disappeared in a waft of blue light, leaving Link alone in the shrine. Only then did he notice the small, eye-adorned chest directly in front of Tahno O’ah’s resting place.

Opening it had revealed not one, but two objects of interest. One was as foreign to Link as the small, glowing sphere he had received at the shrine in Kakariko. Two pieces of metal, one curved and the other straight, were cunningly joined by a bolt at their respective ends. Other than its ability to hinge one way or the other, it served no purpose that Link could decipher.

The other item was more familiar, at least in part. Link recognized it as a sword hilt, but one made of stone rather than metal. It bore no blade, only a slot where it should be.

Picking it up, Link had been surprised to find that the bladeless hilt was considerably heavy. Further examination revealed nothing until he came to the pommel stone, which bore a Sheikah sigil within a small, engraved circle. Unconsciously, he had brushed his finger lightly across the thrice-lashed eye.

A bright yellow blade emerged from the hilt with an electric hiss, its sudden appearance nearly causing Link to drop it in shock. Turning it slowly in his hand, he realized that the metallic blade was suffused with the same yellow light he had glimpsed in the lynel’s shock arrows at Mount Lanayru. The blade was narrowly split down three quarters of its length, leaving it forked into two vicious points. A pair of experimental swings had seen the sword emit small, jagged sparks. Pressing the pommel stone once more returned the blade safely into the hilt.

Link then understood the cryptic warning passed down among the Zora. Like the shock arrows he was setting out to retrieve, this weapon would spell instant death to any Zora.

He now secured the stone hilt to the back of his belt, well out of the way of idle hands. The majority of his supplies would remain behind. The only exceptions were the hilt, Sheikah Slate, his paraglider and a small bundle, tightly wrapped. He would not need the latter for long, and hopefully not the first two at all.

Link exited the guest wing quickly, but even haste did not prevent the many stares and pointing gestures from the Zora already out and about. Young adults from Sidon’s party boasted of having fought alongside the Hylian at Inogo Bridge, while their elders whispered of what had taken place the night before.  Link ignored them as he ascended the steps to the second level before turning right.

The Domain boasted three bridges by which entry and exit on foot was possible. Only the Great Zora Bridge, which Link had traversed with Sidon the day before, served those without the Zora’s gift to ascend waterfalls. The two others, which extended east and west from the Domain, fed into the surrounding mountains. It was there that, by traveling up and down the range’s many cataracts, the Zora mined for the precious luminous stone that made their home and trade with the outside world possible.

Link crossed the eastern bridge, growing increasingly relieved as the number of surrounding Zora thinned. A lone, cream-skinned Zora guard manned the edge of the span, and he smiled as Link approached.

“Good morning, Sir Link,” the Zora warmly greeted. “I am Gaddison. You likely do not remember me, but I played with you and Prince Sidon often when we were small. I must say, it does me good to see you alive and well.”

“Thank you, Gaddison,” Link gratefully returned.

“The prince waits just ahead at Mikau Lake,” the Zora informed him in much quieter tones. “He bid me tell you as much. Word travels fast in the Domain, Sir Link,” he added seriously. “Be careful, and may Hylia swim with you.”

Link reached up to give the kind-hearted Zora’s shoulder a thankful squeeze. “Thank you again, Gaddison,” he said quietly. “May Hylia swim with us all.”

Mikau Lake was, in fact, the bottom-most pool formed by a series of three waterfalls cascading down the western face of Ploymus Mountain. Link was forced to crane his head back as far as he could to glimpse its summit from below. Shatterback Point was clearly visible, jutting out from the mountain’s southern side. It was, Link thought, aptly named. The stone spike’s length was covered in craggy protrusions far harsher than the rest of Ploymus.

As he drew closer, Link’s attention was drawn back to the waterfalls. Though they had undoubtedly been natural cataracts at one point, the clear waters now cascaded over Zora-made walls made of the same flawless metal that comprised the Domain. They were built into the mountain itself, forming a magnificent, silver-blue channel. The enormous beauty of the structure left Link in awe.

“Impressive, is it not?”

Sidon’s good-natured boast brought Link’s attention to the Zora himself. The prince stood near the edge of the waterfall’s basin, looking positively braced for the day ahead. His only possessions were a large rendering of the silver bows his people favored and a small quiver of arrows.

“Why build under the falls, Sidon?” Link asked curiously as he removed his small bundle and began untying it.

“My father has a saying,” the prince grinned. “‘The mountain is strong, the fire mighty, but neither can stand forever against the river.’ It is a lesson for patience, but it also applies to the falls. Our ancestors did not want Ploymus to wear down under the weight of its own waters, so they built channels made of Zora metal that will never rust nor wear away.”

“A truly gifted people,” Link said admiringly as he separated the Zora tunic and leggings from his drycloth bundle. He had purposefully left the pauldrons, vambraces and greaves behind. He would not need them today. “Speaking of which, how is it your sister was able to endow these clothes with the Zora’s ability to swim?”

“Better to ask how we breathe underwater, my friend,” Sidon laughed before his expression became thoughtful. “Hylia blessed my sister with the power to heal. I can only assume that it was also by Her grace that Mipha was able to create this marvelous gift. It is obviously unique, for my people do not require such clothes nor an ability they already possess. Zora maidens usually forge the armor and pendant alone.”

“Why armor?” Link asked, thinking of his own people’s customs. “Why not a ring or some other token?”

“It is a gesture inherited from an age long past,” Sidon explained enthusiastically as Link began to dress. “Long ago, Zora’s Domain was ruled by a king with no talent for war. But what he lacked in skill with a blade, he made up for in love for his people, and especially for his queen.

“One day, news reached the Domain of a lizalfo army gathering in the Zodobon Highlands. Though the king vowed to defend his people, his queen knew how ill-suited he was for the task. Worried for her beloved’s life, she wove one of her own scales into his armor and prayed to Hylia that her love would protect him in battle.

Despite the urgency of the day’s plans, Link found himself taken in by the moving tale.

“Though the Zora fought bravely,” Sidon continued with a definite note of pride, “they were eventually driven to the mountain walls. The lizalfo general himself sought out the king. Its furious attack caused His Highness to fall to his back, helpless to the point of the lizardspawn’s sword.”

Sidon had undoubtedly heard and told the story countless times before, but Link could hear the genuine respect and awe in the Zora prince voice as he reached the story’s climax.

“Just as the general was about to deliver its final blow, an errant sunbeam reflected off the scale on the king’s armor. It blinded the lizardspawn, causing its strike to miss completely. The king slew the general with his own spear, rallied his forces and claimed victory by virtue of what came to be known as the Miracle of the White Scale.”

“Since then,” Sidon concluded significantly, “all Zora maidens have forged a set of armor for their intended, including a pendant bearing the white scale no male possesses.”

Having only just drawn the tunic over his head, Link looked down at his chest to see the pendant woven fast into the cloth. The white scale at its center dully reflected the cloud-covered daylight. His hand unconsciously drifted over and clasped it tightly as he envisioned Mipha’s delicately beautiful face near his own.

The Zora prince had paused for a moment as Link dressed. When he spoke again, his tone was heavy.

“It is strange, is it not?” Sidon mused. “Had things turned out differently, you might have been my sister’s husband.”

The idea all but echoed Link’s final thoughts before falling asleep the night before. What would have happened? It was a door his mind had scurried fruitlessly to open, only to find it wedged shut by reality. How could he imagine what his life would have been without the Calamity?

“Forgive my childish wonderings, my friend,” Sidon cut in apologetically. “Sometimes I allow myself to be carried away by romantic fancies. Still,” he added with a grin, “it is hard not to do so seeing you as you are now. I dare say my sister would find you quite dashing.”

Now that he was wearing them, Link realized the clothes were made to mimic a Zora’s body. The leggings enveloping his feet disposed of the need for boots. Both they and the tunic fit him snugly, but as had been the case the night before, Link felt no undue warmth from wearing them.

“Come then, Link,” Sidon beckoned with a free arm. “Give me your bundle. Best you do this as unencumbered as possible.”

Despite the Zora garments and Sidon’s inspiring tale, Link still felt dubious as he neared the water. When he stepped into the pool, however, he was shocked to feel that none of the moisture penetrated his clothes at all. He was aware only of the motion of the water around him. The unique sensation increased as Link ventured into the deeper portion of the basin, gently using his arms and legs to stay afloat. Perhaps it was his imagination, but he felt as though he was swimming far more easily than he normally could.

“Very good,” Sidon observed loudly over the roar of the waterfall. “You have a feel for the water already. Now then, the trick to ascending the falls is to use your legs as much as possible. Leap out of the water every so often to see where you are going. When you reach the top, give an extra kick to free yourself from the falls.”

Link had only half-heard Sidon’s instructions and understood even less, but he nodded anyway. He suspected this skill was easier to do than explain, especially for a Zora accustomed to the ability for most of his life. He followed closely behind Sidon to the very base of the waterfall. Link should have been buried by the relentless torrent, but instead found himself kicking only slightly harder to remain afloat.

“Ready?” Sidon shouted. “Now, then!”

Link barely glimpsed the red-skinned Zora launch himself up the fall. Hoping he had the right idea, Link kicked upward with all his might.

Had he been forced to describe it, Link would have compared the sensation to rolling down a hill. It was easy as long as he kept up his momentum. With each kick of his webbed feet, Link felt himself leap further upward. Every so often he would try to impersonate a fish breaking the surface, and found it allowed him a brief moment above (or was it alongside?) the waterfall to make sure he stayed well within its width.

In what felt like no time at all, Link reached the crest of the cataract and jumped clear as Sidon had instructed. His landing felt clumsy after the sensation of swimming skyward, but he could not stop an unbidden smile of exhilaration and accomplishment from stealing across his face.

“Wish you were a Zora, do you?” Sidon laughed heartily upon seeing his friend’s joy. “Come, then. Two more, then you must return to your own two feet!”

Twice more, Link enjoyed the sensation of defying the waterfall’s will. He could not imagine doing such a thing whenever the whim took him.

_Mipha made them with the hope you would one day swim the waters of the Domain together._

Dorephan’s words from the previous night sombered the thrill of Link’s aquatic climb and reminded him of the task at hand just as they arrived at the top of the third and final cataract. Sidon had already exited its fount and was now pointing noiselessly above, where the craggy underside of Shatterback Peak loomed.

“Noise is our enemy from here on, Link,” Sidon whispered as Link drew up alongside him.

Nodding silently, Link took his bundle from Sidon and once again began to change. He did not, however, don his Hylian clothing, but instead dressed in the dark blue, form-fitting garments of the Sheikah. Once ready, he motioned to Sidon, who nodded and proceeded up the mountain.

During their conversation from the previous night, Link had learned that a grassy slope meandered up Ploymus’ northern side. They were following that now, keeping as close to the mountain wall as possible so as to avoid being prematurely seen from above. Link desperately hoped the lynel would maintain its perch atop what Dorephan had described as a flat-topped mountain. Any encounter below that would dash all their preparations and very likely cost the lightly armed pair their lives.

Sidon knew the path well, for Ploymus and Shatterback Point were popular points of interest for the Zora. Apparently, he had been punished more than once as a calf for sneaking up the mountain at night. Link thanked Hylia that such had been the case, for it was because of his youthful misdeeds that the prince was able to lead him unerringly now. Sidon carefully navigated each bend of the path to make certain no danger lay just beyond. Link’s legs were already sore from swimming and the slow, subsequent trek up the mountain. His Sheikah garments were drenched from Vah Ruta’s unceasing rains, but he was relieved to note the downpour did not diminish their ability to keep him all but noiseless.

Sidon held up a forestalling hand, but his lack of alarm told Link they had merely reached their destination and not the danger therein. He sidled up alongside the Zora prince until both were crouching against the mountain face that petered out to the flat above.

“I do not see it,” Sidon breathed. “It is likely toward the other side, near Shatterback.”

“Well done,” Link murmured in reply. “Go. Quickly.”

Sidon appeared extremely reluctant to allow his friend to go on alone, but Link’s look brooked no argument. _A fine thing,_ he thought briefly, _that I should reprimand a prince!_ Nonetheless, Link was grateful to see Sidon carefully make his way back down the mountain slopes.

Alone, Link crept out from behind the stone wall. The top of Ploymus mountain was as Dorephan and Sidon had described. Several large boulders and pines dotted the small, grassy mesa. They offered little collective cover, but for Link each rock and tree was an island of safety behind which to hide. Swift and silent as a shadow, he crept behind one of the larger boulders. Link gave himself a good moment before risking a look around the stone mass.

The lynel strode majestically into view along the other side of the mesa, and unlike at Mount Lanayru, Link was able to fully take in its primordial form. He now understood why the Zora referred to it as “demonspawn.” Each hooved step thumped into the wet mountain grass, its dark, horse-like body as finely built as any prize stallion. From its front rose the body of a man replete with muscle and sinew. Every so often the lynel’s head would turn to reveal the face of a wild lion, albeit one with savagely curved horns protruding from its forehead. The nightmare visage turned toward Link, who darted back behind the boulder before the beast’s glowing green eyes could discern him through the falling rain.

At first, Link was terrified the monster was searching for an intruder. Further observation revealed no such urgency on the lynel’s part, however. It appeared to be patrolling its prized mountain territory, nothing more. Link felt certain of this when another swift look revealed that the lynel carried neither bow nor arrows.

The beast’s circuit would eventually bring it closer. Link waited until the animal was facing the opposite direction before darting from one boulder to the next. He continued doing this, keeping as much distance between the lynel and himself while scanning the area for the shock arrows he sought.

Minutes passed as the lethal game of hide-and-seek played out. Link was growing desperate. Had the monster used or discarded the stolen arms? Continuing to belatedly follow the beast’s path would take him too far into the open, and he dared not double back and risk running into the lynel head-on.

A glimmer of yellow. Link saw it where Ploymus’ mesa began to narrow into the jagged spike that was Shatterback Point. He was behind one of the thinner trees, now, but a quick glance showed that the lynel was still well away.

Link crept to the tree nearest what he had glimpsed. There, on the ground, lay the bow and arrows, the latter still contained within their original, waterproof quiver.

Link was sorely tempted to simply seize the shafts and use the slate to travel back to Zora’s Domain. He had already discarded that option the night before, however. Their plans had been arranged before Link had known of the shrine, and he had purposefully decided not to alter them after the fact. How many would die, as Brigo and Dorian had died, if the lynel was left alive?

Not daring to breathe, Link edged toward the coveted arrows. He was out in the open, now, but the lynel’s patrol had not yet returned toward him. Sheathed in the Sheikah garments, Link’s steps made no sound.

A hiss through the air was accompanied by an arrow, which clanged off a nearby boulder. Link’s panicked look toward the lynel was met by the beast’s own surprised gaze -- which then turned to one of rage. With a roar savage enough to curdle the heart, the monster charged.

Link threw stealth aside for speed and raced for the arrows, his right arm already whipping the Sheikah Slate from his belt. He snatched up the quiver and, as he slung it over his shoulder, quickly turned to point the slate at the enraged monstrosity.

The gold light of the stasis rune slammed into the lynel, freezing it where it stood. Link was alarmed, however, to see the light flicker and wink out almost immediately. The rune was apparently unable to hold a creature of this size or power for more than an instant.

Link turned and sprinted up Shatterback’s rapidly narrowing point, his breath raggedly battling the slope and altitude. He could hear the lynel’s hooves ringing sharply against stone, could almost feel the monster’s gutteral snorts of breath; it was nearly upon him. Blindly pointing the slate behind him as he ran, Link touched its surface again. Praying the stasis rune had found its target, Link seized the paraglider from his back, launched himself off the mountain and yelled with all his might.

“Zora! Zora! Zora!”

 

* * *

 

For the umpteenth time, Sidon wiped rainwater from his face and refocused his yellow eyes on Shatterback Point above. He was kneeling at the end of a smaller point that extended south from the third and highest waterfall. Though he held his bow readily, Sidon had not yet nocked an arrow for fear too much exposure to the rain would ruin it. Link had been very particular about that.

The Zora prince’s ears strained to hear something, anything from above. Irrational fears clawed at him. What if the rain kept Link’s voice from carrying this far? Did the demonspawn still possess the shock arrows? Had something happened to his friend?

In his mind’s eye, Sidon saw each of those fears met by the cold, clear gaze Link had issued near the mountain summit. Not even in his father had he ever seen such strength of will, such a resolution to do what must be done. To Sidon, it was confirmation that Hylia had indeed sent Her Champion to help his people.

That was why he had been so reluctant to leave his friend’s side. To stand with Link of Hyrule at his people’s most desperate hour would have done honor to the great Zora rulers and warriors that preceded him. His father, Dorephan the Wise. Seggin, the Demon Sergeant. Laruto the Sage. Ralis the Brave.

 _Do what must be done and let honor fall where it may. Hylia knows your worth, my son_.

The unbidden remembrance of his father’s words made Sidon smile to himself. He was being foolish. His role was more than enough if it meant--

“Zora! Zora! Zora!”

Link’s cry snapped Sidon out of his reverie. In one smooth motion, the Zora prince drew a shaft from his drycloth quiver -- a shaft tipped with a small, heavy bag rather than the silver arrowheads his people favored. Trusting to Link’s plan and timing, he loosed the bomb arrow skyward toward the belly of Shatterback Point.

A great explosion and flash of fire tore the narrow spike from the rest of Ploymus Mountain. Sidon’s own perch was not in danger of the shower of boulders, shale and rockets that rained down.

Through the avalanche of rubble, the Zora prince glimpsed the lynel’s horse-like body plunge from the Domain’s highest peak into the East Reservoir Lake far below.

 

* * *

 

 

Fear and hatred waged a fierce war within Bazz as the lynel turned back toward the sparse trees of Ploymus’ summit. For an instant, he had felt sure the demonspawn would become aware of the Zora crouched just below the mesa’s northern edge. Then the sound of the beast’s heavy hooves grew fainter, and Bazz decided to risk a look.

Bazz had witnessed the despised Hylian’s arrival, for he had made the ascent himself some two hours previous. The wait had been long, dry and tense. Countless times he had heard the lynel approach on its circuit and feared discovery. The Zora’s legs and back ached from remaining uncomfortably hidden and still for so long.

Then, mercifully, Bazz’s patience had been rewarded. But, as his father had predicted, the Hylian had come prepared. Merely glimpsing Link in the garb of the Sheikah had twisted Bazz’s face into a snarl. The coward was relying on stealth to earn his honor, while Seggin had been publicly shamed for honestly seeking his. The injustice rankled the young Zora.  
  
Movement along the far side of the scattered pines caught Bazz’s eye. There he was. The filth was out in the open now, carefully approaching whatever object had seized its interest. No doubt he had found the shock arrows.

But the lynel had not yet spotted its intruder. The Hylian was in danger of taking the arrows and escaping without even being noticed.

 _Hylia blind him!_ Bazz thought savagely. _He has the Demon King’s own luck!_

But this was why the Zora had come, to ensure the Hylian faced whatever danger he might otherwise sidestep. Raising his silver Zora bow, Bazz loosed an arrow toward Shatterback’s rocky base.

He was not close enough to hear the shaft land, but both Link and the lynel clearly were. Bazz’s heart leaped as the demonspawn charged madly toward the exposed Hylian, who ran blindly toward the point itself. The Zora stood, smiling as he allowed himself to witness his people’s revenge fulfilled.

Bazz’s expression morphed to disbelief as, rather than turn and futilely face the lynel, the Hylian actually leaped off Shatterback! Then an explosion of earth and fire temporarily forced the Zora to fall to the ground. When the noise and his own shock cleared, Bazz raised his head, but he saw neither Hylian nor demonspawn.

What had happened? Had the lynel’s magic somehow claimed both prey and predator?

 _I must be sure_ , Bazz thought madly. Seizing his bow, he ran toward Shatterback Point only to find that the outcropping was no longer there. Whatever force that had sewn fire and thunder had blown the point completely off the mountain. A quick glance downward revealed distant ripples on the reservoir’s normally smooth surface.

 _It’s done,_ Bazz thought grimly. _He’s dead, and my people are now free of him._

The vast view of the reservoir invited Bazz’s gaze toward the bulk of Vah Ruta that lay toward the lake’s southern side. Perhaps now, elders like his father and Muzu could convince the king that the Zora were best suited to help themselves.

Movement just below his line of sight caught Bazz’s eyes, which went wide with shock. There, floating slowly downward like an ill-proportioned crane, was the Hylian! He was grasping some contraption that allowed him to avoid the fall that should have claimed his life!

Snarling in rage, Bazz quickly nocked another arrow to his bow. Luck was with him. The mountain breeze was slowly carrying Hylian back toward the mountain, giving Bazz a broad, bird’s eye view of the paraglider.

It was a shot Bazz could not miss.

 

* * *

 

His foe’s sudden absence, combined with the feeling of floating through the air, allowed Link a ludicrous moment of calm in the aftermath of the chaos he had just left behind. His eyes wandered from the lynel’s violent splash to the far side of the lake. There, half-submerged like some beast from the beginning of time, lay Vah Ruta.

Link recognized it from Impa’s parchment. A large head and broad back of Sheikah-forged metal and stone were visible above the lake surface. So, too, was the end of what he knew to be an elongated nose, the middle of which was still under water.

Its shape, he had somewhat expected. It was its size that left Link in awe. Vah Ruta could hold at least four stable tents on its broad back alone. It was easily as large as a small mountain, albeit one covered intermittently with red light the same color as the mists he had sign enshroud Hyrule Castle. They shone from the various joints and gaps in the Divine Beast’s body: the segments of its snake-like nose, its round imitations of eyes, and the joints halfway down its trunk-like legs. Water streamed unceasingly from the end of its serpentine nose straight into the air, feeding the heavy grey clouds that blanketed Zora’s Domain and the surrounding mountains. More water poured from large apertures at its sides, further raising the already dangerously full reservoir.

It was above those water vents that Link saw the red-glowing orbs Dorephan had described, supposedly the one weakness that could be exploited with the shock arrows he now carried. They were placed where the animal’s shoulders would be, far too high to be reached by any bow.

 _How in Hylia am I to shoot those?_ Link wondered desperately.

The thought was cut short by another hiss on the wind. An arrow flew out of nowhere, its silver point cutting cleanly through the cloth of Link’s paraglider. The resulting hole was instantly made larger by the wind escaping through it.

Like a stone, Link plummeted to the lake below.


	25. Vah Ruta

“Are you sure, Sidon? You must be certain. I dare not suspect one of our brethren otherwise.”

“I tell you, Father, it was a Zora shaft that brought Link down! I have no doubt.”

“Nor do I doubt your honesty, my son. I believe that is what you believe you saw, but if I act and it is proven otherwise, such an accusation could divide our people completely.”

“Father, much as it pains me to admit it, our people are already divided! Only a Zora thoroughly convinced against your wishes would dare attack Link after the Council’s vote!”

“Again, my son, _if_ it was an arrow that brought him down, and _if_ it was a Zora…”

Sidon’s heated arguments and Dorephan’s calming efforts woke Link from a deep sleep. Their words recalled the events from Shatterback Point to vivid and painful memory. The leap. The calm descent on the paraglider. The arrow and a sudden drop into the deep blue waters below. Then blackness.

Link’s eyes blinked open for the first time since that chaos and found the silver-blue ceiling of the guest wing. Dorephan and Sidon stood a few beds away, no doubt to ensure their conversation did not wake him. To his great relief, Link did not feel sharp pain nor restrictive bandaging anywhere on his body. He had been lucky to hit only the lake surface instead of its mountainous shore.

Having ascertained his well being, Link sat up on the Hylian-sized bed.

“It was an arrow, Your Highness,” he interrupted to the surprise of the two Zora. “Two, actually. The latter, your son saw for himself. The first alerted the lynel to my presence atop the mountain.”

“Link!” Sidon exclaimed as he rushed over to his friend. “Thank Hylia you are still with us! Are you all right?”

“Better than I’d hoped,” Link admitted. “How long since I fell?”

“It is night of the same day,” Dorephan informed him as he sat his massive frame on the bed next to his. “Sidon wasted no time getting you out of the reservoir. But you say someone alerted the lynel to your presence, then did nothing more until you were defenseless?”

“Coward!” the prince cried passionately.

“Not a coward,” Link corrected him, shaking his head. “Whoever wanted me dead tried to make it so without being seen. I am loath to cast blame toward any of your people, Your Highness,” Link added with true regret, “but I can think of no others with the need to slay me anonymously.”

Link’s words clearly troubled Dorephan, whose broad face was creased into a considerable frown. Sidon, however, nodded in agreement.

“You see, Father?” the prince insisted. “It fits all too well. Speak with the elders who opposed Link’s aid. They will not lie in your presence!”

“Just as they would not oppose my will after a Council vote?” Dorephan dryly countered. “My son, if it was one of our brethren, he or she has already cast aside all bonds that bind us. Even discounting that, I will not conduct an aimless hunt among my own people. We have only suppositions at this point. Better to build a bridge made of water than to accuse without the benefit of truth on our side.”

Sidon was clearly furious at the helplessness of the situation. Link, with no desire to see further disunity among the Zora, quickly intervened.

“The arrows, do we still have them?” he asked.

Link noted Dorephan’s subtly grateful nod as Sidon answered.

“They are there, Link,” Sidon said, motioning to Link’s bedside table. “The quiver kept them dry even after you fell. Thank Hylia for that, for I could not have fished you out otherwise.”

“I thank both Hylia and you, my friend,” Link replied honestly. “Frankly, I would not have had you risk your life in Vah Ruta’s waters.”

He was slightly alarmed when Sidon smiled at this.

“Then I am afraid you will be displeased with me, Link,” the prince bracingly informed him. “For I must risk those waters again, and do so with you, if we are to halt Ruta’s rage.”

 

* * *

 

Bazz sat stoically, his iron-hard expression hiding the raging fury within. Over and over in his mind’s eye he watched the Hylian fall to what should have been his doom. It would have been a fitting end: drowned in the waters that were now home to the Divine Beast he had allowed to curse the Zora.

Then Sidon had appeared, only too eager to rescue the same man that had spelled death for his sister. _What madness_ , Bazz thought bitterly, _aligns him closer to his sister’s killer than to his own people?_

A pulling sensation at his arm temporarily distracted Bazz from his dark musings. His father was securing one of two twin spaulders just below his son’s brightly colored shoulder fins. Its silver-steel alloy was burnished to shining, as was the rest of what he already wore. The armoring of a Zora warrior normally fell to his or her mother or spouse. As Bazz had neither, the duty fell to his father.

The Zora captain took vicious pride in this. His father, the great Seggin, preparing his son to right the wrongs of a century past. It was a circle completing itself, a sign that Hylia had ordained his people’s vengeance.

A splash in their home’s entry pool announced the arrival of Muzu, who quietly took a seat while father and son finished the inaudible ceremony. Only when the narrow helm was placed on the front of Bazz’s crown did the younger Zora stand. He was acutely aware of his own body, of its youth and strength. Finely toned muscle swelled snugly against flawless silver armor. The presence of his aged father and Muzu further emphasized his unbowed height. He was a Zora warrior in his prime. Who better to triumph over the disgraced Hylian Champion?

Seggin stepped back to critically appraise the preparations made for his son. Bazz felt pride stir within him as his father looked upon him approvingly.

“You are ready, my son,” Seggin solemnly declared. “May Hylia swim with you.”

The ritual was all but finished. Normally, Bazz would have taken up his arms and left then and there with Seggin’s blessing. Son and father, however, both turned their attention to the patiently waiting Muzu.

“Where is Trello?” Seggin asked.

“Above with some of the other elders,” Muzu answered. “I did not think it wise for our collective absence to repeat itself more than necessary. No doubt the Hylian and Prince Sidon are suspicious after yesterday’s events.”

“Those will not be repeated,” Bazz said harshly before remembering to whom he spoke. Muzu, however, actually appeared pleased with his brashness.

“I am glad to see this task has consumed you beyond the bounds of propriety,” the elder observed with satisfaction. “Besides, I do not reference the Hylian’s good luck to reprimand, only to warn. Eyes will be watching to see if similar interference occurs at the reservoir. I assume you will take precautions to ensure those eyes remain blind?”

It was Seggin who answered, and Bazz sensed it was to save his son’s anger for the battle to come.

“Bazz is scheduled to be on patrol,” Seggin assured Muzu. “Once gone, he will make his way to the reservoir’s southern platform. Only if the Hylian penetrates Ruta’s defenses will Bazz intervene.”

“Very good,” Muzu said approvingly before turning his attention to Bazz. “If you are forced to board Vah Ruta and confront the Hylian, you must do so by circling opposite from the rest of us. No one must see you.”

“What do you mean, the rest of us?” Bazz asked sharply.

“King Dorephan,” Muzu said with sardonic respect, “has commanded that we all accompany the Hylian to the reservoir, ‘to support him with our presence if not our spears.’”

“He would place his people in danger’s path?” Seggin hissed in outrage. “Within Vah Ruta’s reach just as the Hylian would seize control of it?”

_A circle complete_ , Bazz thought to himself once more.

“Worry not, father,” the armored bull said firmly. “Our king has only ensured that the Zora will witness their safety secured by one of their own. Perhaps, once I have slain the Hylian, I can seize control of Ruta myself and stop this accursed storm.”

Muzu nodded thoughtfully at Bazz’s confidence. Seggin, however, went directly to the back wall of the cave to remove his son’s fish-tailed spear from its brackets. The bent and wrinkled Zora offered the weapon to his only offspring.

“Go then, my son,” Seggin gravely bid him. “Go and save your people from this threat -- and from themselves.”

 

* * *

 

As he had the day before, Link girded himself for the task that lay ahead. This time, he thrust aside any misgivings about donning the Zora clothing and armor. Whatever offense it might cause paled in comparison to the actions already taken against him. All Link could do was focus on Vah Ruta and hope his unseen attacker would feel compelled to reveal himself.

He would be ready for both. Unlike the lynel, Link would face this day’s foes with the full complement of arms. His knightsword and Dorian’s smaller blade joined the Sheikah-stone hilt. So, too, did a small silver bow crafted especially for him. Its size was such that a Zora adolescent might wield, but it fit his needs perfectly. The shock arrows, safely encased in their drycloth quiver, hung at his left side, opposite the Sheikah Slate.

Link was not surprised to see Sidon waiting for him at the guest wing entrance. Unlike himself, the Zora prince was unarmed. He would not need to be on this day.

“Ready, Link?” Sidon said with an easy grin.

Link nodded with a smile of his own. Something about doing what he was about to do with Mipha’s brother seemed… right.

“My father will address the people shortly by the statue,” Sidon informed him gently. “I understand if you wish to wait until he is finished.”

“No, my friend,” Link replied firmly. “I no longer fear the past.”

Sidon’s grin widened.

“You are a Champion, Link, through and through,” the Zora prince said softly as the pair exited toward the plaza outside. “So was my sister. Today is for both of you.”

The plaza was indeed filled to capacity. Link and Sidon did not venture beyond the guest wing entrance. Those who could not fit on the main level were lined along the stairs leading around and up to the second platform of the Domain. Still more Zora observed the proceedings from the balcony above, completing the multicolored sea of fishlike people congregated in the heart of their home.

Like some benevolent father, Dorephan’s immense form rose above them all. He was every inch the king, the diadem and vestments of office complementing his barrel chest and the long, thick tail falling from the back of his crown. When he spoke, it was with a combination of love and command Link felt must be unequaled in all of Hyrule.

“My people,” Dorephan rumbled, “today we gather to accompany those who would halt Vah Ruta’s wrath. One of them in particular goes for much more, for he is the Hylian Champion, Link, returned to us by means ordained of Hylia.”

Murmurs rippled through the Zora, but they ceased as soon as the king resumed speaking.

“Link fought against the Calamity alongside my daughter, whose likeness is now forever etched in stone,” Dorephan continued while placing a hand on the statue at his side. “As she remains in our hearts, Mipha lives on in Link’s heart -- and I know my daughter’s spirit goes with him this day. Let us also accompany him, that the Zora may be united against the gravest threat our people have seen in a century.”

Several Zora were silently weeping, but Link felt no temptation to do so. His heart was not heavy with loss, but light with the prospect at hand.

“Let us witness the beginning of the end of Ganon’s reign,” Dorephan thundered. “Let us go forth and see Hyrule restored as in the days of yore, when Zora and Hylian and all of Hyrule’s peoples were united in the bonds of fellowship. Let us go forth as one.”

The majority of the Zora roared their approval, their multi-colored arm and elbow fins waving proudly in the air. Link did not fail to notice those who omitted their support, many of whom were the elder of their race. He glimpsed Muzu looking decidedly expressionless. Some distance away from him stood Trello, who was having a difficult time concealing his disgust. Seggin, who stood on one of the stairwells, appeared openly furious.

Link was suddenly curious why the three were so blatantly dispersed among the crowd. They had been the most outspoken elders during his audience with the Council. It seemed only fitting they would band together in their open dislike of him.

_One foe at a time,_ Link reminded himself.

Sidon began leading him through the tightly packed crowd. They left a wave of whispers and mutterings in their wake, all remarking at the Zora armor worn by the Hylian. Link did not care. Mipha’s white scale pendant was like a talisman, its meaning shielding him from the uncertainty and distrust now swirling around him.

Link accompanied the Zora prince up the right staircase, after which they continued to the same eastern bridge they had taken the day before. Only there did they finally emerge from the congregated Zora, who began to follow at a respectful distance behind the pair.

“Mipha would be proud to see you wear her armor with such dignity,” Sidon told him with a gentle squeeze of his shoulder.

Link said nothing. He felt as though each step he took was toward his mostly forgotten past. Something told him that Vah Ruta held more than merely the means to end Ganon. The thought was irrational, but neither could his heart dismiss it.

Instead of continuing toward Mikau Lake, Sidon and Link turned right. There, much like the channels behind the waterfalls, rose a magnificent wall built into the side of the mountain. This, Link knew, had been erected to complete the reservoir’s confinement. Its silver-blue facade featured one unique characteristic: a staircase that zig-zagged its way to the top of the wall. The pair made their way upward at a measured gait, conserving their energy for what was to come.

When they arrived at the top, Link saw that the staircase spilled out into a massive observation deck. The structure emitted the soft, turquoise light that illuminated all Zora masonry. A long, narrow jetty jutted out into the reservoir itself. Link knew that it would normally be elevated from the water. Now, however, miniature waves lapped over its sides. Another day or two, and the reservoir would overflow to the stairs -- and the Domain’s already bloated waters below.

“Not a moment too soon,” Sidon muttered at his side. Link could only nod in response as his eyes were drawn to the massive form of Vah Ruta, which squatted half-submerged at the reservoir’s southern end. Water continued to pour from the vents just below its shoulders, while still more spouted into the air from its elongated trunk.

Link and Sidon made their way out onto the jetty. The rest of the Zora remained behind on the observation deck, allowing some distance between them and whatever battle was about to take place.

“You remember the plan, Link?” Sidon asked searchingly. “Are you sure you’re ready? I would not blame any of my own people for needing an extra day if they fell as you did yesterday.”

Link briefly removed the bow from his shoulder and tested its string. Like so many things the Zora made, it was impervious to the rain that continued to fall from the leaden sky above. Shouldering it, he met the prince’s concerned expression with a set one of his own.

“The time for waiting is over, my friend,” Link answered firmly. “Let us see the sun shine on Zora’s Domain once more.”

Sidon’s now familiar, contagious smile stole across his face. With his people watching, the Zora prince performed an incredible, twisting dive into the reservoir’s depths. He broke the surface next to the jetty a moment later, waiting only long enough for Link to join him. Though Mipha’s armor allowed him to swim easily, it did not lend him the natural speed inherent in her people. For this reason, Sidon’s help was essential.

Once in the water, Link situated himself atop Sidon’s long, broad back. He clamped his legs tightly around the Zora’s waist and firmly gripped the straps of leather Sidon was wearing around his shoulders just for this benefit.

“Ready, Link?” Sidon asked brightly, for all the world as if this were a countryside outing. “Hang on!”

Link’s grip tightened sharply as he felt the Zora’s well-muscled body surge through the water. He could not believe how easily Sidon cut through its surface, leaving a keenly cut wake behind them.

Faster and faster the prince swam, until Link gave up wiping away the fine mist continually spraying up and into his face. Only now did he realize the prince had started slowly on his behalf. Taking off at this speed, Link would have been thrown aside in a trice.

As it was, he squinted hard to keep his sights on the massive form of Vah Ruta that was now alarmingly close. The beast’s metal-and-stone body was highlighted by rings and whorls of dark red light that intensified as Sidon and Link approached.

With an ear-splitting trumpet, Vah Ruta lifted its bulk from the water. Its size made Link feel like a raindrop able to be scattered should the Divine Beast deign to notice him.

Like a minnow evading the trout, Sidon cut swiftly away from the machine’s path. The Zora’s head bobbed steadily up and down, seemingly unflustered and in rhythm despite the great speed at which he swam.

“Get ready, Link!” Sidon shouted over his shoulder. “I’m going in!”

Like an arrow, the prince shot towards Vah Ruta’s left flank until they were nearly under one of the water vents. The amount of liquid pouring down from just above the beast’s leg would have drowned any other creature save a Zora -- or one wearing magically enhanced Zora armor.

Link let go just as Sidon dove safely underwater, then kicked furiously upwards. As Link had hoped, the action had the same effect as at the waterfall the previous day. He ascended up the unintentional cataract as easily as any Zora. When he reached its crest, Link leaped from the flow as hard as he could.

Time seemed to slow. Link was now in the air, high above where Vah Ruta’s leg joined to the body. There, nestled into that joint, was one of the glowing red orbs Dorephan had described. It was large, but hardly an easy target given what Link was attempting.

Even as he exited the “waterfall,” Link had unslung the bow from his shoulders. Now, as his momentum petered out and left him hovering for an instant in midair, he removed a shock arrow from his quiver, strung it to the Zora bow and loosed it toward the orb.

The forked yellow shaft found its mark, causing a surge of electricity on the orb’s surface before the light within it faded and died. As had been the case with Seggin just weeks before, water ceased to flow from the vent just below the paralyzed orb.

All of this Link did and registered in a matter of seconds before plummeting to the reservoir surface below. The Zora clothing, however, made the impact seem more pleasant than painful. Sidon appeared at his side immediately, waiting only long enough for Link to resume his grip before dashing away through the water.

“Marvelous! Well done, Link!” Sidon exclaimed over the rushing wind and rain. “I dare say a Rito could not have done better!”

Link did not bother asking or responding, for a flash of blue light had erupted behind them. He craned his head for a look and witnessed with awe what Sidon had described from his previous encounter with the beast.

Hovering along Vah Ruta’s side by virtue of some unseen magic, enormous blocks of ice spun in agitated circles. Then, as though loosed from an invisible sling, they rocketed toward the exposed Zora and Hylian.

“Ruta’s powers are upon us!” Sidon shouted.

The warning was needless, but the Zora’s sudden shift away from the fast-approaching ice was not. Link knew that Sidon was reaching the limit of his incredible speed, and he needed every second it would buy him. Regripping his left hand to its leather strap and offering a swift prayer to Hylia, Link removed the Sheikah Slate from his belt.

The first ice boulder was nearly upon them. Link aimed the slate at it and pressed the small, snowflake symbol -- the cryonis rune.

The threatening ice block immediately burst apart in a shower of shards and water. Link felt a thrill of hope that was accompanied by a triumphant shout from Sidon. It was but the work of the moment for Link to similarly shatter the remaining ice, the magic from his Sheikah Slate canceling out that of the Sheikah-built Divine Beast.

Their path clear once again, Hylian and Zora made straight for the machine. Just as he had the first time, Link ascended another cataract, drew his bow and wounded Ruta at an orb just above its shoulder joint. Once again, the vent directly below it ceased dispensing its flow of water.

Twice more the cycle repeated itself, each time with the Divine Beast retaliating with a barrage of magically conjured ice. The slate reduced them all to melting motes. When Link’s shock arrow connected with the final orb, Sidon was waiting in the water below, but this time it was to jointly observe what would happen next.

With a great roar, Vah Ruta’s serpentine trunk crashed into the water, causing a sizeable wave that swelled underneath and past the two companions. Without its water flow, the unnatural clouds above immediately began to thin. For the first time in what felt an eternity, Link felt sunlight stream down from the heavens above.

“We did it, Link! We did it!” Sidon exclaimed with joy. “That was astounding! Absolutely amazing!”

Link, however, was paying fast attention to Vah Ruta’s side, which shuddered before folding open to reveal a platform exactly level with the water’s surface.

“My task is not yet done, my friend,” Link said quietly. “I must enter Vah Ruta and seize control of her within. Merely subdued, she will not help me defeat Ganon.”

Sidon nodded in understanding.

“Yes, of course,” the prince agreed. “Come, then, Champion. Let us see you aboard this Divine Beast.”

Link allowed himself to be towed smoothly and swiftly to the platform. He lifted himself up, leaving Sidon treading water as he bid farewell.

“Show the enemy no fear,” the Zora prince told him with an upraised and clenched fist. “Farewell, my friend.”

Nodding as much to himself as to Sidon, Link turned and beheld a familiar sight: a Sheikah pedestal complete with an open slot for his slate. He was not surprised to see a bronze circle, centered around the Sheikah eye, flare to blue life.

Taking a deep breath, Link entered Vah Ruta.


	26. What Comes and What Awaits

Link followed the short hallway leading from the entrance platform into the belly of Vah Ruta. At its end, he emerged to find the wonders of the Sheikah technology on full -- if temporarily stalled -- display.

Enormous gears fitted with equally large chains were fastened in a system of cooperation that far exceeded Link’s comprehension. Platforms hung suspended and frozen in midair along their intended paths. Centered within the Divine Beast was erected a great metal mill, its bottom submerged in a deep pool of water. Droplets still fell from its blades, indicating it had only just ceased its normal motion. The shock arrows, it seemed, had all but immobilized Vah Ruta.

Link’s awe at the Divine Beast’s interior, however, was tainted with repugnance over what now desecrated it. Oozing fungus of red and black covered large patches of stone and metal alike. That which had grown in corners or crevices had spawned web-like tendrils to expand its hold. From several of those evil nets grew grotesque and singular eyes, each lidded with the same ooze from which they had sprung. As one, each yellow orb swiveled toward Link and widened in shock.

Link grasped the sword hilt over his shoulder, but the malevolent eyes did nothing. The veritically slit pupils merely stared with what Link felt could only be fear. Had this been the moment they had dreaded for a century? The coming of Hyrule’s Champion, bent on rewriting the ending they had nearly wrought upon the world?

Then, cutting through the scene of sickening corruption, came a voice heard only within Link’s mind.

_“You’re here.”_

Link staggered in shock. He had heard Zelda’s voice resound within him before. It was not the phenomenon itself that shook him. It was its source.

“Mipha?” he gasped in disbelief.

 _“Yes, Link,”_ he heard her answer in the same, gentle tones he barely remembered. Not since his awakening had his heart twisted so bittersweetly. _“I am here_.”

“How?” he asked, his heart leaping hopefully into his throat. “Have you been alive all this time? Like Zelda? Like… like me?”

The sorrow in Mipha’s voice was but an echo of what Link felt upon hearing the answer.

_“No, my dearest Link. I am here only in spirit, captive within Ruta the last one hundred years.”_

The sense of loss was more than Link could bear. He fell to his knees, tears streaming openly down his face.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered in agony. “I’m sorry.”

 _“Do not weep, current of my heart.”_ The love and comfort in Mipha’s voice filled Link, made him lift his head as though he could see her tender expression in person. _“This is our fate, painful as it is. You are here, now. You must take control of Ruta before she awakens once more. Already, she is stirring.”_

At Mipha’s words, a rush of water poured anew from one of the previously disabled vents, and Link understood that the shock arrows’ effect must only be temporary.

 _“Make your way to the control terminal,”_ Mipha instructed him. _“There you will find the means by which to take Ruta back. Take care, for Ganon’s malice and minions guard the way.”_

Link rose, wiping the tears from his face as red light further illuminated Vah Ruta’s interior. He was, he realized, near the back end of the Divine Beast. The lights focused on a broad, central causeway leading directly toward Ruta’s head.

Link followed it, stopping only when he came upon the first web of malice. A yellow eye stared balefully at him, but it did nothing to deter his path. Perhaps it could not. Link did not wait to find out. The eye widened in panic as he unsheathed the sword from his back and thrust straight through its vertically slit pupil.

Like a bag full of air now pierced, the thing shriveled in on itself. The fungus and tendrils attached to it also diminished and ultimately disappeared, leaving a clear path where they had once clung.

Twice more Link severed pieces of Ganon’s essence from Vah Ruta, but he knew that, like the water, their return was inevitable until he seized full control of the Divine Beast.

A miniature Guardian -- identical to the one inside Kakariko’s shrine -- rushed from hiding behind the third eye and its accompanying malice. Link did not hesitate. With Impa’s admonishment ringing in his ears, he raised the slate and froze the machine with the stasis rune. Flickering light showed the rune’s effect would last only seconds, but Link needed no longer than that to pierce the creature through its single blue eye. It collapsed in a heap, smoke pouring from its now empty socket.

Again and again Link cut his way through malice and machine alike. Each victory felt as though he had severed a small filament of Ganon’s hold on Hyrule. Each time he felt as though another step had been taken toward Mipha and Zelda. As he progressed, Link heard water spring forth from a second vent.

Finally, the last yellow eye lay pierced and dead. The methodical nature of his advance had blinded Link to his path’s downward slope. Now it opened into a great, circular chamber with a floor covered thinly with water, which Link could only assume was for the comfort of its Zora pilot.

At the chamber’s center reared a stone and metal structure as large as Dorephan. It looked something like a rosebud with its petals still tightly closed. An orange-glowing Sheikah pedestal stood directly in front of it.

Raising the slate in his left hand, Link stepped forward.

_“Wait. There is… someone--”_

An arrow’s hiss interrupted Mipha’s warning. The shaft went straight through Link’s outstretched hand, its silver head protruding sharply from the other side of his palm.

“Not again, Hylian! Never again!”

Link whipped around to see Bazz leap down through one of the metal gaps in Vah Ruta’s broad back. The ebony skinned Zora rolled smoothly to his feet and nocked another arrow to his bow.

 _“No!”_ Mipha cried out desperately as though Bazz could hear her. _“No, please!”_

Link’s injured hand had dropped the slate, but he dared not waste time searching the ankle-deep waters. He leaped to one side and felt Bazz’s arrow pierce the air where he had stood an instant before.

“Coward!” Bazz spat. “Face me, Hylian! Accept your fate, as my people were forced to accept theirs a century ago!”

Link quickly snapped the arrow protruding from his hand and painfully removed the embedded half. Blood poured from the wound, but he did not have time to staunch it. He rolled out of the way just in time to avoid another angry shaft, then darted behind the control terminal.

“Stop, Bazz!” Link shouted urgently. “I am here to help your people, to help all of our people! Mipha’s spirit is trapped here, as surely as Zelda is trapped within Hyrule Castle!”

“Lies!” Bazz screamed as, in a fit of madness, he blindly loosed arrow after arrow at the immobile terminal. “Mipha is dead, all but slain by your own hand! I will not allow more of my people to suffer your treachery!”

Link’s attention was divided between the Zora bull’s rage and Mipha’s urgent warnings.

 _“You must hurry, Link!”_ she pleaded. _“If she awakens, Vah Ruta will sense one who is not a Champion aboard her!”_

Even as Mipha spoke, a third vent gushed to life. What would happen if Bazz was allowed to remain? How long before Ruta punished his presence?

“I do not wish you harm you, Bazz, but I will stop you if I must!” Link loudly warned from behind the terminal. “Leave now before you endanger us all!”

“Now you reveal your true intentions!” the Zora cried triumphantly. “I was not fooled by your guise of ill-earned respect like Dorephan and his milk-hearted son. You are nothing more than a thief and a murderer, Hylian! Come and face me, then!”

Resolved to end this, Link unshouldered his bow and quiver. As urgent as the situation was, he did not dare resort to shock arrows that could instantly slay the Zora. Link’s hope was to subdue him and take control of Ruta before the machine reacted to Bazz’s presence.

The Zora had either run out of arrows or was simply eager to slay Link with his own hand. Bazz had discarded his bow in favor of the fishtailed spear that was longer than himself. Link held his own sword in his right hand, his wounded left all but useless at his side. He kept his eyes locked on the crescent head of Bazz’s spear, allowing his mind and body to meld into the same, fixed focus.

With a snarl, Bazz darted forward, his spear seeking the Hylian’s less defended left side. Link stepped backward and deftly turned aside the attack with a flick of his sword. Despite his skill, he knew disarming the Zora would be difficult. Bazz’s height and reach dwarfed his own. All he could do was defend himself with his one good hand and wait for an opening.

The Zora offered no such opportunity. Link struggled to keep his measured defense circling around the terminal rather than allow Bazz to pin him against the wall with his superior size and strength. His opponent was formidable, even more so now that he was fueled by passionate hatred.

“You do not remember them, do you?” Bazz taunted as his spear probed for an opening. “Those who died believing you would save them? My own mother was among them, Hylian, crushed by the waters Ruta spewed a century ago. You will answer to her and countless others before you are barred from Hylia’s waters!”

An angry jab punctuated the Zora’s words, which Link again turned aside. His strength, already tested by the lynel and Vah Ruta, was ebbing. His left hand throbbed mercilessly. A small part of him acknowledged the water now flowing from the fourth and final vent.

“It will be over soon, Hylian,” Bazz cruelly crooned. “Soon, now, you will answer the dead that have awaited you. I pray to Hylia that your fate be made known to my people--”

_“Intruder detected. Intruder detected.”_

Every gap and window slit within the Divine Beast slammed shut, leaving only the faint red glow of overhanging malice to illuminate the scene within. Link could not help it. He looked behind him and saw red and black mist begin to swirl around the terminal. With a yell of triumph, Bazz thrust his spear forward.

The longer of the weapon’s two needle-sharp points struck the white scale -- Mipha’s scale -- within Link’s pendant. With a sharp report, the entire blade snapped cleanly off.

His spear’s unexpected yielding caused Bazz to stumble head-first into the chamber’s shallow waters. Link had also fallen under the pure force of the blow, but he lifted his head enough to see the horror that had emerged from the terminal.

The thing was half malice, half machine. Its flesh was made of the same black and red ooze Link had cut down throughout Vah Ruta. The rest of the creature was covered in some corrupt version of Sheikah metal and stone. It had no legs, but hovered several spans off the ground. Its face was devoid of any normal feature save a single, glowing blue eye embedded between two broadly twisted horns. Its left arm was made almost entirely of Sheikah metal. Instead of fingers, that arm ended with a flat, elongated spear of pure blue light.

The creature raised its nightmarish head and let out a blood-curdling shriek.

“What sorcery is this?” Bazz cried out, his fury at war with fear of this new threat.

Mipha provided the answer, albeit one only Link could hear.

_“That thing is a creation of Ganon, spawned when his malice overcame Vah Ruta! It proved to be my undoing a century ago. Please be careful, Link!”_

But the princess’s warning fell on suddenly deaf ears. This monster was the reason Mipha had died.

With a roar of reckless fury, Link charged forward with his sword upraised.

Only instinct and speed saved the Hylian Champion from certain death. The Ganonspawn lashed out with its spear, which left the acrid smell of burnt air and water in its trail. The odor wafted over Link as he leaped over the lethal blade and landed awkwardly on his face in front of the terminal.

The monster immediately glided to him, its eerily glowing spear reared back and ready to be driven through the helpless Hylian.

A shout. Something large slammed into the malice-bred beast and drove it to the ground. Link realized with shock that it was Bazz, who was using his considerable size to keep the Ganonspawn pinned to the watery floor. The Zora stabbed wildly with the blunt shaft that remained from his own spear, its broken end gouging sizeable wounds within the creature’s red-and-black flesh.

The monster’s orb-like eye flared red, and a brilliant beam of blue light blasted Bazz to the opposite wall. The Zora crumpled to the floor like something broken, his half-charred body hissing as it touched the water.

The water…

With the minimal light available, it was but the work of a moment for Link to spot the glowing surface of the Sheikah slate lying just under the water’s surface. He scrambled to it on hands and knees, his body shaking as he heard the angry hum of the Ganonspawn’s spear coming near.

Praying that neither fall nor water had damaged it, Link seized the slate, pointing at the ground directly in front of him and pressed the cryonis rune.

A square pillar of ice sprang to life just as the monster’s thrust arrived. The icy block shattered under the blow, but the blue spear disappeared upon impact. The Ganonspawn shrieked as though in pain. Then, still hovering several spans off the ground,  its baleful gaze focused on Link and began to glow red once more.

_“No!”_

Link was not sure whether the voice was his or Mipha’s. Perhaps both. All he knew was that his life would not end the same as hers, trapped within a Divine Beast corrupted to serve Ganon’s ends. Without thought, he pointed the slate directly beneath him. He felt the ice pillar lift his body toward the Ganonspawn’s nightmarish face, its eye gleaming redder with every second. Link’s other hand seized the stone hilt from his belt and pressed the Sheikah pommel stone. A flash of angry yellow light accompanied the blade that emerged, its reflection visible in the red eye that was now very close. Link leaped just as the pillar stopped rising, giving him extra impetus toward the horror poised just above him. With a savage cry, Link stabbed upward.

The Ganonspawn’s inhuman scream rent the air as sharply as the blade pierced its eye. Lightning-like arcs of yellow clashed with rays of blue, a cacophony of energy and power that harshly illuminated Vah Ruta’s interior. Link rolled out of the way as quickly as he could to the side of the chamber, where Bazz lay slumped against the wall. From there, he watched malice pour out of the monster as though it were blood. The blue light intensified to the point of blinding, temporarily concealing the Ganonspawn from sight.

Suddenly, the light winked out. Nothing of the monster remained. The broken blade and hilt of the Sheikah sword sputtered and went dark in the shallow waters. The chamber was plunged to further darkness as the malice that had stained the ceiling went dark and shrank to nothing. Only the gentle orange glow of the Sheikah pedestal remained, barely illuminating Link and the still form of Bazz.

Knowing what he would find yet dreading it just the same, Link placed his hand on the Zora’s chest. His fingers found burnt flesh, but no life stirred beneath. Hot tears rained from the Hylian’s blue eyes as he clutched the body of the Zora that had tried to kill him, only to save him before the end.

“I can’t leave him here,” Link gasped in the semi-darkness.

 _“The slate, Link. Use it, and Ruta will release you_.”

Link unsteadily made his way to the pedestal, which glowed blue when he presented the slate to it. The terminal also began to glow blue, and the Divine Beast immediately ceased its outpouring of water. The various windows and gaps in Vah Ruta reopened to allow streams of bright sunlight into the chamber.

“Hello, Link.”

Link whipped around to see what his ears could not believe. Mipha’s voice no longer resounded within his head. It came from the Zora herself, who stood on the other side of the chamber exactly as Link remembered her.

The dark red skin of Mipha’s arms, head, back and shoulders complemented the creamy white of the front of her body. A silver headdress adorned her fish-shaped crown, while more silver decorated her neck, chest and waist. Mipha was smaller than any adult Zora Link could remember, but her size seemed to fit the grace with which she carried herself. Gentle eyes of yellow-gold rested above a small mouth now upturned into a tremulous smile. Link felt his chest constrict upon seeing that beautiful smile shine on him again.

She walked toward him now, and only then did Link notice the vague opaqueness that betrayed the true nature of her imperfect presence. His heart ached afresh with loss after having been briefly filled by Mipha’s seeming return. He wanted to say something, but his throat tightened as a flood of emotions waged war within him.

“Please, Link, do not weep for me,” Mipha softly pled. “I have wept for one hundred years thinking of what your fate must have been. Never did I imagine you would return to me as you have. Now I know you are safe, and I am free to help you once more.”

“How?” Link rasped. He couldn’t look at her. Mipha’s voice warmed and wounded at the same time, serving as an echo of the love they could no longer share in life.

“My spirit is tied to Vah Ruta until her task is done,” Mipha said simply, her eyes gazing steadfastly at him.

“So you are bound to my failure?” Link asked helplessly. “Then you have every right to hate me, and I am more indebted to you and the other Champions than I knew.”

“Not so, Link,” Mipha gently corrected him. She was very close to him now, her heart-shaped face as young and lovely as he remembered. “I knew I would be bound to Ruta’s fate when Zelda asked me to pilot her, as did the others. I agreed immediately, partly because I was so eager to learn. Mostly, I did it for you. I love you Link. I always will. And Ruta and I will fight alongside you when the moment comes.”

“I love you, Mipha,” Link replied while clenching the white scale pendant. His throat loosened. His tears dried. Had they ever said those words to one another before?

Link brought his eyes up to meet hers, and saw Mipha’s face glowing with radiance undimmed. _Hylia, but she is beautiful_. The Zora princess stepped closer and held out her right hand, palm down. Without thought, Link offered his left, its palm facing up towards hers. Blue light shone between the Zora and Hylian. Link felt the arrow wound in his hand begin to knit itself and close.

“You must go,” Mipha whispered. “I will return you and my water brother to my people.”

Light gathered around them. Link focused on Mipha’s eyes, willing himself to drown in their golden depths. Once, long ago, he had allowed himself to dream of a future when those eyes would always be there for him. Now he had only a moment.

“I am with you, current of my heart.”

The light was brilliant. So was her smile.

“I am with you.”

 

* * *

 

Sidon stood with his father at the end of the jetty, their respective gazes joining those of the rest of the Zora. Worry had assailed both king and prince when Vah Ruta’s waters returned, but Sidon could not believe his friend had done so much only to fail now.

Now the waters had ceased once again, allowing the sun to resume its triumphant return. The collective sense of relief had been palpable, but it had also allowed the Zora’s attention to focus on the Hylian within. Why had Link not yet returned?

Others were clearly wondering the same thing. Sidon did not want to think of the elders’ suspicions growing with every moment Link remained within Vah Ruta. That concern had intensified when his father had quietly informed him of Seggin’s absence.

“Should I try to find him, father?” Sidon asked helplessly.

“No, my son,” Dorephan said, shaking his head. “We know nothing of what is happening within Vah Ruta. A foolish desire to help could undo whatever Link has already done on our behalf.”

The prince knew his father was right. The sun was shining, after all. Quite brightly at that. Much brighter, in fact, than it had been just a moment ago.

“Sidon!” Dorephan’s voice rang out in warning.

Only by squinting his eyes was Sidon able to see that the light was gathering halfway up the jetty, directly between them and the rest of the Zora. Eventually he had to close his eyes to its brilliance.

Then, more suddenly than it arrived, the light was gone. In its place and lying unconscious on the pier were two bodies.

“It’s Link and Bazz!” Sidon shouted.

Several of the Zora gathered on the dock started forward, but they were halted by another flash of light. This time it disappeared to reveal something hovering above the water, something Sidon had not seen since he was a small child.

It was a trident, its silver body shining brightly in the sun. Soft embellishments of emerald and ruby adorned the curved metalwork leading from haft to tines. The weapon itself seemed to emit its own glow, which strengthened as a gentle voice resonated within hearing of all gathered on the dock.

_“Father, brother, my dear water brothers and sisters. Abandon your grief and know joy once more.”_

Sidon fell to one knee, his heart hammering in disbelief at the sound of his sister’s voice. Dorephan collapsed to both knees as tears coursed down his massive face. When he spoke, it was with the same broken voice Sidon remembered hearing as a small calf in the days immediately after the Calamity.

“Mipha?” the Zora king asked quaveringly.

_“Do not weep for me, father, nor any of you. Link has freed me from Ganon’s power. Remember me by helping him in the days to come.”_

Sidon wanted to reach out, much as he had done as a child when his sister had to leave for some important errand. Then, his childish entreaties had been enough for one more hug, one more moment with his favorite person in the whole world. Sidon felt the same simple yearning now, but he also feared any action would shatter this miracle. Dorephan gasped audibly when she spoke once more.

_“Father, I want you to know that I have always followed my heart.”_

“I know, my daughter,” Dorephan answered, his head bowed and body racked with silent sobs. “Hylia help me, I know.”

Sidon’s own tears increased as his sister addressed him just as she had when he was young. He half expected to feel her gentle hand under his chin, lifting his gaze to meet hers.

_“Sweet Sidon, you are our people’s future. Build that future with dignity and love, and all will be well.”_

“I will, sister,” Sidon heard himself answer in a voice that did not feel like his own. Childlike panic bloomed in his heart as Mipha’s voice began to fade.

_“Do not grieve. Only remember. Remember and live.”_

The soft glow around the trident diminished, and the weapon itself drifted down gently until it clattered lightly on the jetty.

 

* * *

 

An emotional pall fell over the gathered Zora, who slowly approached the two fallen figures. Sidon saw Muzu and Trello both openly weeping. He did not blame them. Other than himself and his father, the two elders had been closest to Mipha in life.

Sidon and Dorephan also approached the still forms on the jetty. Sidon winced as he glimpsed Bazz’s body, who was burnt almost beyond recognition. Link, however, did not appear to be wounded.

The Zora king knelt gently next to each one before raising his head to address his eldest councilor.

“Muzu, where is Seggin?” Dorephan asked quietly. “If you know, you must tell me now.”

The green-skinned Zora opened his mouth to answer when an angry voice from the back of the crowd saved him the effort.

“Where is Bazz?! Where is my son?”

Ripples in the crowd betrayed the source of the irate demands. They drew nearer until the gathered Zora parted to allow a heavy-breathing Seggin to approach the small gathering at the pier. The former Demon Sergeant’s eyes glared suspiciously at king and prince -- until they fell upon Bazz’s disfigured body.

“What… what has happened to my son?” Seggin gasped.

“I do not know, Seggin,” Dorephan replied levelly. His considerable attention was now completely focused on the ebony-skinned elder, whose own gaze darted wildly between the inert forms of Bazz and Link. “We know only that he returned with Link as he is now. How or why he was aboard Vah--”

 _“Did he kill my son?”_ Seggin appeared possessed. Spittle flecked off his mouth and his once-proud chest heaved with exertion bred from grief and fury. “ _Did the Hylian kill my son?”_

“No, Seggin, I did not.”

The crowded Zora gasped as Link slowly rose to his feet. Seggin, however, wheezed all the harder as the Hylian continued.

“Ganon’s malice killed your son, as surely as it slew Mipha a century ago,” Link informed him heavily, and it was clear to all present that the Hylian was only just able to remain standing. “And though Bazz boarded Vah Ruta to kill me, it is because of his bravery that she will claim no more of your people.”

Silence as thick as wool enveloped the gathering, and nowhere was it thicker than between the young Hylian and elder Zora. Sidon looked rapidly from one to the other, unsure of what would happen next.

Seggin’s sword flashed in the long-awaited sunlight as it was whipped from its scabbard. It took but two strides for the large Zora to reach the Hylian. Sidon needed only one.

The elder Zora cried out and painfully grasped his sword hand, which had received the full force of Sidon’s spearhaft. His sword flew into the reservoir with a loud splash. The prince stood between Seggin and Link, his eyes blazing with fury undimmed.

“You dare attack he that has saved us, Seggin?” Sidon demanded. “From what Link has told us, your son reclaimed his honor after abandoning it to the dark waters of hate. Now you drown in your own, with your people present to witness it.”

“You would side with my son’s murderer?” Seggin screamed before looking to the king standing just behind the prince. “What of you, _Your Highness_? Do you also dismiss my son’s loss as easily as that of your own daughter? Do you favor an outsider over our own people? Over those who have served and fought and bled and died for you?”

Dorephan shook his head sadly.

“You are blind, Seggin, and your blindness has cost you more than you know,” the Zora king sadly pronounced. “Had you been here and not seeking to further your own hate-filled ends, you would have heard my daughter’s voice telling us to leave behind our grief and move on to life. You seek to accuse him? Mipha defends him even now.”

“You lie!” Seggin was apoplectic with rage, his screams echoing off the reservoir walls.

“It is the truth, Seggin!”

All eyes turned to Muzu, the source of the sobbing confirmation that made Seggin go still with shock.

“It is true!” the green-skinned Zora repeated, tearfully pointing to the beautifully carved trident still lying on the jetty. “Mipha spoke and bade we help the Hy-- that we help Link. We were wrong, but it is not too late for us to make things right!”

Seggin’s expression turned cold and calculated as he measured Muzu’s words and Trello’s accompanying, shaken nod of confirmation. When the former Demon Sergeant spoke again, it was in frighteningly calm tones that made Sidon recall the eldest of those who had survived the Calamity -- the ones who had gone mad before death mercifully claimed them.

“So the Hylian has turned you as well, has he?” Seggin taunted. “A pity. But I can wait. I will see his filth washed away and our people purified once more. I have time. The Zora have time.”

“No, Seggin,” Dorephan thundered. The king advanced and loomed over the former Demon Sergeant like some primeval patriarch. For the first time in a century, Sidon saw his father truly angry. All attempt at diplomacy was gone. It had been replaced by raw, unrestrained authority, and Sidon half-expected the mountain walls to crack under the weight of his king’s wrath.

“You have both threatened and tried to slay the one who has saved our land,” Dorephan knelled. “You have forsaken your people to satisfy lies whispered by your own hatred. And though I will not shed the blood of another Zora, neither will I allow you to endanger the Domain. You are banished, Seggin, until death claims you. And when Hylia’s waters take your spirit home, I pray it may be allowed to make amends for what you have done this day.”

Though dwarfed by his king, Seggin had drawn himself up to his own considerable height as the sentence was passed. At its conclusion, he swept his gaze of disdainful pride across all who were gathered before stopping on Link. Sidon’s grip tightened on his spear, but Seggin merely curled his lip in contempt, his yellow eyes glittering maliciously. Then, without a word, he turned and walked through a parting sea of Zora and down the reservoir staircase.

Only when Seggin was well gone did Sidon turn toward his father and Link in disbelief.

“How could he just abandon his son?” the prince desperately asked with a gesture toward Bazz’s limp and seared body. “How can he act so contrary to all that he holds dear?”

“Now you see the true poison of hatred unchecked, my son,” Dorephan mourned as he knelt to gently lift Bazz into his massive arms. “It kills all in its path -- honor, goodness, even love. If allowed to run its course, what is left behind is worse than dead, for it is no longer merely a shell of what was, but something else entirely: a corrupted soul all but beyond recall.”

Sidon could only nod helplessly as his father held the dead fruits of that hatred. He then noticed two others cautiously edging their way forward from the crowd: Muzu and Trello. The elders knelt, their faces bowed ashamedly toward the jetty’s blue-silver surface.

“We… we beg forgiveness, Your Highness, though we do not deserve it,” Muzu stammered. Sidon had never heard the respected elder sound so abased. “We conspired with Seggin and Bazz, and thus are responsible for the sorrow that has stained what should be a day of joy. We give ourselves to your judgement.”

The bent and wrinkled pair remained kneeling and bowed, awaiting their king’s decision. Dorephan beheld them nearly as angrily as he had Seggin.

“Despite your actions, the day is still won,” the Zora king finally and forcibly said. “It is not me nor our people to whom you are indebted, but to the man whose life your actions would have ended. He will decide your fate, and I will support whatever decision he makes.”

Muzu and Trello merely nodded at Dorephan’s pronouncement without lifting their eyes to meet their new judge. Sidon looked quickly to Link, who seemed to be weighing the pair of them. What would his friend do?

After another moment of consideration, Link stepped forward and gently pulled both Zora to their feet. Then he gestured to the dead Zora in Dorephan’s arms. Sidon shivered as his friend spoke with the softness of steel.

“You will bear Seggin’s son to Zora’s Domain,” Link issued loudly enough for all to hear. “You two will be charged with commissioning him to Hylia’s waters. With him, you will also send your petty grievances and mistrust down the Zora River. Let them flow to the end of Hyrule, from where they may never return. Let the memory of today’s sorrow spur you only to remember its true source -- and to help me defeat it once and for all.”

Without a word, Muzu and Trello nodded before taking Bazz’s burnt and broken body from Dorephan. The aged pair made their way haltingly through the gathered Zora, their shared burden slowing their already faltering steps. They wept freely, as did nearly all who surrounded the two pallbearers and the dead captain they carried.

Sidon accompanied his friend and father at the rear of the procession, the three of them somewhat apart from those ahead.

“Your sense of justice is as keen as your blade, Link,” Dorephan said slowly. “No one will forget what you and my daughter have said this day.”

“Anything can be forgotten, Dorephan,” Link quietly countered, and Sidon sensed heavy truth in his friend’s words. “The question is whether it will be remembered again before it is too late.”


	27. Returns

Link stood along the rail of the Great Zora Bridge, the attention of both eye and mind divided. The events since emerging from Vah Ruta the previous day seemed a blur, and only now was he attempting to take stock of what was and what would be.

Far below, Zora calves played with pent-up enthusiasm on and between the rock islands that dotted Ruta Lake, the great body of water fed by the Domain and that, in turn, supplied the Zora River. Adult caretakers watched their young closely and fondly all at once, happy to let them enjoy a few precious moments of unburdened diversion. Such recreation would be brief. In the Domain itself, the Zora were girding themselves for war.

All those trained in battle were arming themselves from crown to fins, as the saying went. Smithies had worked tirelessly through the night to enhance the Zora’s already considerable armory, which was now being emptied as they turned their attention from Divine Beast to Ganonspawn. Dorephan had ordered preparations be complete by the second morning after Link’s victory at Vah Ruta. With the sun already beginning its afternoon descent, Zora’s Domain was a swarm of silver-and-steel activity.

Link no longer wore his own Zora armor. He had stowed it with his other belongings in preparation for the journey ahead.

The decision had been a difficult one. A very significant part of Link wanted to march (or swim) with Sidon’s people to meet the lizalfos to the west. Hylia knew whether the Wetlands Stable still stood. He could only hope their numbers had been enough to keep the lizalfos at bay this long.

Even the stablemen’s plight, however, did not pull at Link as strongly as the previous day’s revelations. Mipha’s spirit had been trapped in Vah Ruta. He could only assume the same held true for the other Champions. A century of incarceration. The thought wrenched Link’s stomach. It had to end, both for them and Zelda. Though Link hated himself for thinking it, the Zora’s aid allowed him to press on toward his own ends. Too many had already died for him.

_“Do not grieve. Only remember. Remember and live.”_

Mipha’s words rang sharply in Link’s memory. Though they had been addressed to all, Link knew they had been spoken especially for his benefit. Remembering made him clutch his chest, and his hand wrapped around the jewel hidden beneath his tunic.

Though he no longer wore the Zora armor, Link had, with Dorephan and Mei’s help, procured a small portion of Mipha’s gift to keep with him at all times. The Zora wife, experienced in the art of craftsmanship, had expertly removed the whitescale pendant from the waterproof tunic. The delicately fashioned pendant now hung from a chain of silver around Link’s neck.

Images flashed through his mind’s eye whenever he recalled the pendant’s presence, the vast majority of them stemming from the previous day’s events aboard Vah Ruta. Bazz’s spear breaking. Mipha’s spirit appearing. Her radiant look of love undimmed. The latter had stolen upon him during the solitary and tear-stained moments before he had mercifully fallen asleep the night before. It was then that another long-lost memory had burst forth into remembrance, and Link grasped the pendant once again as his mind replayed it for the hundredth time…

 

* * *

 

 

Dusk’s golden tendrils laced the cloud-scudded sky above the reservoir, the surface of which was so still it reflected the heavens in near perfection. Even the monolithic legs of Vah Ruta offered no disturbance, for they were also still. Only its immense trunk moved now, curling until its snout-like end pointed skyward.

Two small figures sat upon the flat end of the trunk. Mipha had been only too enthusiastic to show Link just how expertly she could operate the Divine Beast. She was pleased to see him impressed by Ruta’s vast and complex interior, as well as her adept skill in piloting the machine.

Link knew the Zora princess, however, and he smiled quietly as they sat down now to observe the day’s glorious conclusion. This was the first time she had stopped speaking since they had set out from the Domain. Mipha was nervous, and Link had no idea why.

Private moments such as these had been all too rare in recent years. Since he had taken up his post as Zelda’s appointed knight, Link had scarcely allowed himself time alone, never mind with Mipha. When their mutual affection had been young and new, they had never hesitated to find time for one another whenever Link journeyed to Zora’s Domain -- or even when Mipha came to Hyrule Castle with her father.

Visitations were still frequent. The work of the Divine Beasts necessitated communication between Zelda and Hyrule’s Champions. Business reigned over those meetings, however, and it seemed only moments had passed before Link’s formal greeting was already being followed by an equally distant farewell.

Today, however, had been different. Again, Link wondered why, and not for the first time. A raiding band of lizalfos had taken his attention that morning. Between Link and several Zora guards, the encounter had been brief. Still, it was rare for Ganonspawn to penetrate so deeply into the Domain. That had not stopped Zelda from resolutely proclaiming that she was perfectly safe in Dorephan’s throne room with the king himself and a half-dozen guards just outside.

It was Dorephan who had suggested that Link occupy his time by joining Mipha on her daily excursion to tend to Vah Ruta. It was an innocent enough idea, but the Zora patriarch had been unusually encouraging in sharing it.

In times past, being alone with Mipha would have set Link’s heart racing and flustered him more than single-handedly facing a score of Ganonspawn. Those feelings still tried to assail him, but they were stamped down by the duty that weighed on him like a mountain. Ganon’s return was fast approaching, that much was clear. He could hardly give in to something as simple and self-serving as love when Hyrule’s fate deserved his full attention.

“Thank you for helping my water brethren today.”

Mipha’s gentle tones temporarily lifted Link from the depths of his own thoughts. He used to dream of hearing the Zora princess’s voice. He still did, but they were contorted cries from the depths of nightmares in which Ganon emerged victorious.

“Of course,” Link acknowledged respectfully. He had been about to add the honorific of “Your Highness,” but the small part of him still clinging to a future with Mipha whispered doing so would all but sever that hope.

“You weren’t hurt, were you?” Mipha asked suddenly, her normally soft eyes hardened in suspicion.

Link reluctantly rolled up the right sleeve of his tunic, revealing a large binding on his forearm. Much of it was red.

“Why didn’t you say anything before?” Mipha gasped as she scooted closer and reached over to remove the bandages.

“It’s nothing,” Link flatly insisted. “It will heal well enough on its own. There is no need to trouble yourself.”

“I must say, you’ve changed far more than I thought, and not for the better,” Mipha distractedly observed while clearing the rest of Link’s forearm. “There was a time you’d come to me with nothing more than a scratch as an excuse to see my power.”

Link shrugged uncomfortably. “Things change.”

As a child, he had been fascinated with Mipha’s ability to heal. That power had taken on new meaning as he had grown older. It was no longer the magic that enthralled him, but the Zora who wielded it.

Now, as she had done countless times before, Mipha held her right hand above Link’s wound. Immediately, a soft blue light began to glow between them.

“This reminds me of the time we first met,” Mipha said suddenly. Though she was gazing at his unsightly wound, the Zora’s expression was fond. “You were just a reckless child, always getting yourself hurt at every turn.”

Link said nothing. He was too busy trying to fortify the walls around his heart, which were being assailed by Mipha’s voice and magic. He wanted to give in to them. He knew he could not.

“Every time, I would heal you.”

Link could not help it. He looked up and met Mipha’s eyes. They were as breathtaking as the rest of her, twin portals of golden grace highlighting a heart-shaped face of pale beauty.

“I was… I was always willing to heal your wounds.”

The walls cracked. Brilliant light lanced in. Link tried to board it up.

“I doubt you have been unwilling to heal anyone.” _Hylia, what’s wrong with my voice?_ “You have extended your kindness and help to all who need it.”

Mipha’s gaze fell suddenly, her attention back on the wound that was now all but gone. Link did not miss the sudden presence of moisture in those eyes. _Well that’s what you wanted, wasn’t it?_ he told himself viciously.

As soon as the injury disappeared, Mipha removed her hand. Link restrained his own hand from reaching for hers. When she spoke again, the Zora sounded determined.

“So if this Calamity Ganon does in fact return, what can we really do? We just don’t seem to know much about what we will face when the time comes.”

Link breathed an inward sigh of relief. _There,_ he thought. _She’s focused on the task at hand. Just as I should be._

“I don’t know,” he answered truthfully. “All we can do is prepare… and hope.”

Link had not meant to say those last two words. They had slipped out through the crack he had failed to mend. _What good is hoping for my tomorrow,_ he berated himself, _when the coming night threatens the tomorrows of so many? Perhaps all._

Mipha, however, smiled as she looked down at her hands. They were, Link only now realized, clasping a bundle laying atop her legs. It looked as though it might contain clothing, but why Mipha would bring clothes for either of them was a mystery.

Just when Link thought she was about to untie the bundle, Mipha clenched her fists instead. She looked at them with a soft smile as she spoke again.

“Well then, in the meantime, know this.”

She lifted her face to meet his once more. The setting sun only added to the radiance suffusing Mipha’s delicate features.

“No matter how difficult the days ahead, no matter how dark the hour, if anyone ever does you harm, I will heal you. I want you to know I will always protect you.”

It was impossible for Link to ignore the import of Mipha’s words, disguised though it might be. On the surface, she was respecting his wishes to keep their love at bay, but their meaning flowed strong and swift and sure in the undercurrents. Link had never seen her more beautiful. _Hylia, let me see her like this again after it is done._

“I could not ask for more than that,” Link said quietly.

Mipha’s hands convulsed over the bundle. _Why should that matter now?_ he wondered.

“Once this is over,” she continued haltingly, “maybe things can return to how they were when we were young.”

Mipha looked at him once more, her eyes promising everything her words would not. _I will do anything to for you, Mipha,_ Link vowed to himself.

“Perhaps then, we can spend more time together,” she all but whispered.

Mipha’s face drew near his. The walls crumbled.

 

* * *

 

 

Link wiped the tears from his face. For the umpteenth time, he thanked Hylia for that memory. The ache it caused him was considerable, but it also made him feel alive. He was not just a pawn chosen to fight some foreordained battle waged between an uncaring goddess and mindless demon. Maybe he was that, but he had also loved and been loved. To Link, that was better proof of his worth, a better measure of his life, than any divinely appointed mission.

“Good day, Link, Hylian Champion, chosen protector of Princess Zelda, Wielder of the Sword That Seals the Darkness and trusted emissary of Rhoam, late King of Hyrule!”

The bittersweetness of Mipha’s memory fled at the sound of Sidon’s joyfully issued greeting. Link could not help but smile at the Zora prince, who took up a place alongside him at the bridge rail.

“Surely you don’t intend to address me thus from now on?” Link laughed before adding seriously, “Many of those titles no longer apply, you know.”

“You are still the Hylian Champion, you are even now striving to protect Zelda, and I have faith you will find the Sword in due course,” Sidon returned with an easy grin. “Truth be told, I find it heartening to remind myself such a one fights alongside me and my people.”

Link said nothing to this. Sidon’s confidence meant more to him than the Zora would ever know.

“How go the preparations?” Link asked instead.

“As well as can be expected,” Sidon answered while peering over the bridge at the swimming Zora far below. “All told, five hundred Zora will ride the river tomorrow. I only hope,” he added solemnly, “that we arrive in time for those poor souls at the stable.”

“Against a force that large, haste and ill-preparedness would only add to the dead,” Link returned stoically. He, too, was anxious for the Hylians all but trapped at the wetlands’ edge.

“Indeed,” Sidon agreed. “That being said, I believe we should--”

“Prince Sidon! Sir Link!”

Champion and prince turned immediately toward the light-blue-skinned guard running towards them.

“What is it Kayden?” Sidon asked sharply. “What’s wrong?”

“Hylian… appeared at the shrine,” Kayden gasped. “He’s… in the throne room. King Dorephan… wants you now!”

“Good Zora!” Sidon assured him before catching up with Link, who had already raced ahead. There had to be some mistake. Without the Sheikah Slate, no one could travel to what few shrines were now active. Unless another slate had survived… but how? And who would possess it?

All these questions and more blurred across Link’s mind as he and Sidon vaulted up the stairs to the throne room. What Link found there forced him to halt in disbelieving amazement.

There, in the same audience circle where Link had presented himself just days before, stood Brigo. The patrolman turned at the pair’s entrance, a jaunty grin blooming on the tall Hylian’s narrow face.

“Well yer a sight fer sore eyes, make no mistake!”

***

Link’s brain seemed unable to function. Words escaped him. His legs, however, carried him forward, and his arm reached out to confirm what his eyes told him was there.

“How… how did… but I thought…”

“Still got a way wi’ words, do yeh?” Brigo laughed. “‘Tis me, sure enough, lad. Yeh did no think yeh could get rid o’ meh so easily?”

Link grasped the patrolman’s arm. It felt real. Without another word, he embraced Brigo as hard as he could. Tears poured from his eyes, but he did not care. He heard his friend cough forcefully as he returned the greeting.

“Easy lad,” Brigo grunted softly. “I may be taller, but yeh pack a wallop if yeh did no already know that.”

“I take it, Link, that this man’s story is true. You certainly seem to esteem him as the friend he claims to be.”

Link hastily released Brigo from his iron grip and wiped his face before looking up to Dorephan, whose words and broad smile were directed to the reunited Hylians.

“He is, Dorephan,” Link assured him before adding, “though you’ll want to keep your larders locked up as long as he’s here. Brigo is as rude at the table as he is about barging into kingdoms unannounced.”

Rolling laughter from Dorephan and Sidon drowned out Brigo’s familiar snort. Link turned to face the friend he had been certain was lost forever.

“How did you come to be here?” he asked incredulously. “One of the Zora guards said you appeared at the shrine, but surely he didn’t mean with a Sheikah Slate?”

“Yeh mean that ruddy contraption His Highness took from meh?” Brigo answered while gesturing the Dorephan’s throne. There, on one of the arms, rested a device that looked identical to the one at Link’s hip. “Oh aye, I did, and Hylia help me if I ever have to do it again!”

Link was nonplussed.

“But how? And the lynel?”

“What lynel?” Dorephan interrupted sharply. “Another demonspawn draws near?”

“Slow down, the lot o’ yeh!” Brigo interrupted good-naturedly. “Sit still fer a tick an’ I’ll tell the whole gran’ tale! That is, if yeh’ve a pint to spare. ‘Tisn’t good to speak fer long periods o’ time w’out nary a drop to wet meh whistle.”

Sidon came to Link’s impatient rescue with a delicate Zora goblet. Brigo downed its contents with a gulp and a satisfied smack of his lips.

“S’good stuff, that,” he remarked lightly while nonchalantly turning the cup in his hand. “Zora silver, is it? Oh! Right, then!”

The insufferable patrolman hurried to tell his tale under Link’s narrowed gaze.

“Last question first,” Brigo began briskly as he turned to Dorephan. “Nay, Yer Highness, the lynel we do speak of made our acquaintance near Mount Lanayru. ‘Twas what, a fortnight gone, Link? Aye, more or less. Anyways, Link got away safe -- as well Hyrule’s hero should! The beast ‘ad taken off after you an’ Dorian. An’ before yeh ask, I’m sorry lad, but I saw nary a sign o’ the lad after I got awa’.”

Link’s nearly spoken question escaped in a sigh of heartbroken disappointment. Remembering the Sheikah’s rapidly melting face during the lynel’s relentless attack, he was forced to accept that his young friend was truly gone. Link nodded silently for Brigo to continue. The patrolman did so quickly, perhaps to skip past the somber interruption.

“Like I was sayin’, the devil had taken off after you lot, so I hid mehself as best I could. The beast hit me with a shock arrow. ‘Twas all I could do to lay still under some brush. I did no dare move ‘til nightfall, but I knew I could no take the Lanayru Road through the promenade. Lizardscum would’ve had me in short order by mehself wounded as I was.”

“There is no other path to Kakariko, not from there,” Dorephan interjected.

“Just so, Yer Highness,” Brigo graciously acknowledged. “I only had one choice: go back to Hateno the way we came.”

“You went back up the mountain?” Link asked disbelievingly.

“Damn near crawled to it that night,” the patrolman irritably confirmed, as though remembering his discomfort. “Hylia must’ve been smilin’ on meh, because I did no cross paths with the lynel again. ‘Twas tough goin’, but I finally made it back to Hateno and that wee barmy Sheikah girl.”

“I assume Purah had some tough questions for you returning alone as you did,” Link guessed with a smile.

“Purah?” Dorephan interrupted eagerly. “Purah lives yet? How marvelous! I’ve not seen her since she was a young maiden, quite lovely too, for a Hylian. Many of Link’s fellows were quite besotted with her. How is she?”

“Er… still a young maiden at heart,” Link answered awkwardly. Brigo was set upon by a furious bout of coughing which Link hastened to cut short. “So what did Purah say, Brig?”

“Oh, she was right livid when I told her a bloody lynel had separated us,” the patrolman confirmed once he’d regained his composure. “Asked me all sorts o’ questions. Cheered up when I mentioned glimpsin’ some blue light where you an’ Dorian were hidin’ from the beast. Asked meh about it again an’ again, she did. Once she’d wrung me dry, she asked me to wait. That’s all. ‘Just wait here like a good boy an’ we’ll see where Linky goes!’”

Now it was Sidon’s turn to poorly hide his laughter. Link felt his face flush at the mention of Purah’s nickname for him. He tried to focus on what his friend had said.

“See where I’d go?” he asked curiously. “I don’t understand.”

“Nor did I,” Brigo agreed with a shrug of his shoulders. “Waited right up ‘til two days ago. I was gettin’ impatient. Even if I did no seek yeh out, meh stable had to be wonderin’ where I’d run off to. I barged into her hut ready to tell ‘er off, that I was goin’, even if it meant fightin’ her mate wi’ the glasses. Just as I was about to do just that, that thing made some kind o’ noise. You’d ‘ave thought Hylia herself had appeared the way she carried on about that bloody thing.”

The patrolman was gesturing to the slate on Dorephan’s throne arm, which the king immediately took up and handed to Link. A quick inspection revealed the same marvel shown on his own slate: a partially filled in map, complete with blue sigils marking the towers and shrines he had activated since awakening.

“She gave you her slate?” Link asked in wonder.

“Aye, an’ pouted somethin’ fierce when she did,” Brigo added wryly. “Made a show o’ how big a sacrifice she was makin’, but she gave it to me and told me to see Impa in Kakariko, then come to this here place.”

“Why Impa first?” Link asked, suddenly suspicious of the Sheikah’s motives.

“Tell ‘er where you were, least where Purah _thought_ you were,” the patrolman answered simply. “I could no find a reason not to, mind yeh, otherwise I would’ve come straight here. Good thing I did, too. She had a message for King Dorephan, here.”

“What message?” the Zora asked suddenly. Brigo once again turned to the eldest ruler in Hyrule.

“The Wetlands Stable is under attack,” the patrolman answered without a hint of his usual cheek. “The Sheikah ‘ave gone to help, but Lady Impa says they won’t hold fer long. She said, ‘Tell King Dorephan to send as many water spears as can be mustered, and that they swim to the wetlands’ aid as though Hylia herself had asked it of them.”

The mighty Zora patriarch rose to his feet, and Link saw his friend take an involuntary step backward. He did not blame Brigo. Fiery purpose dominated Dorephan’s impressive visage.

“Sidon, tell our captains we swim tonight.”

The Zora prince nodded decisively. “Yes, Your Highness,” he answered with a bow, then departed speedily out of the throne room.

“I will go with you,” Link volunteered. Already his blood raced in anticipation of the forthcoming battle and the stable’s need for reinforcements.

“Tha’s where yer wrong, lad.”

Link turned in surprise to Brigo, who was stubbornly shaking his head.

“Lady Impa,” the patrolman continued, “had a message for yeh as well: ‘Tell Link his quest is what needs him most now. Tell him to show his bravery by fleeing the easiest battle so he may yet fight those foes only he can face.”

Link swallowed hard at hearing his own half-made decision confirmed by the seemingly all-knowing Sheikah elder. Even so, this was far more difficult than he could have imagined. All around him, Zora were preparing themselves for war. Now he must simply let them and not lift a finger in support?

“You must do as Lady Impa asks, Link.”

Link raised his eyes to meet Dorephan, who was looking down upon him all too knowingly.

“She is wise and knows what needs to be done -- and who should do it,” the Zora king said firmly. “She asks much of you -- and of my own people. We must each do our part, and be grateful that Hylia has granted us the opportunity to do that much. If you do for others what you have done at Zora’s Domain, Ganon will be hard-pressed to match the strength that will gather behind you.”

Link nodded against the lump in his throat. Brigo seemed to breathe a sigh of relief.

“Good,” Dorephan confirmed, albeit cheerfully before taking the slate from Link and handing it to Brigo. “It seems Hylia is with us, and you have played the part of Her messenger, good patrolman. My thanks and honor are yours, as are the possessions we took from you.”

Brigo shook his head and held up his hands in protest.

“I do no need to be seein’ that ruddy thing again in this lifetime,” the patrolman objected loudly.

“Take it, Brig,” Link forcibly ordered his friend. “Purah trusted you with it, and it may yet be useful if we are separated again.”

“We will be, lad,” Brigo informed him as he reluctantly accepted the slate from Dorephan. “I’d love to come with yeh, but a patrolman can no turn his back on a stable about to be ransacked by Ganonspawn. I’ve got friends at Wetlands, an’ I aim to be with ‘em come hell or Hylia.”

Link grasped his friend’s forearm heartily.

“I’d expect nothing less,” he said bracingly. “I’m just glad you’re all right, Brig.”

The tall patrolman rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed. “Meh too, lad. I did no fancy bein’ a lynel’s supper just yet. But yeh take care o’ yerself. I’d best get packed an’ on meh way to the stable. I can no swim like these bl… blessed Zora.”

With a sheepish glance toward Dorephan’s knowing smile, Brigo returned Link’s farewell before departing the throne room. Link soaked in his bittersweet anxiety for his miraculously living friend before shifting his attention to the Zora king.

“I must journey north, Your Highness” Link said, recalling the golden markers on his slate’s map. “In what time remains you, what can you tell me of that land and the people who live there?”

The Zora King smiled and beckoned Link to walk with him as he spoke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brigo lives! So did the lynel encounter do nothing more than provide a few chapters' worth of grief? Not really. Stay tuned for the epilogue to Book Two, which comes out next week. I'm grateful that that specific branch of the story allowed for Brigo's personality to remain. He's a fun contrast to Link.
> 
> Speaking of Link, putting the well-known memory of him and Mipha words was a fun challenge. I wanted context behind her words, as well as Link's own thoughts upon hearing them. The whitescale pendant is a slight alteration from the full Zora armor, but one I felt 1) wasn't two outlandish and 2) will serve its own purpose in the books ahead.
> 
> The table is nearly set for Book Three, with war in the wetlands and Link's journey north providing two main arenas in which several story arcs will take prominent place. Brigo, Sidon and others will get their own spotlights. I'm excited for what they reveal.
> 
> Thanks again for your time in reading. If you've enjoyed this, feel free to bookmark/follow the story or leave a review/comment. - MattWords


	28. Epilogue

Dorill half-heartedly swung his boulder breaker at the blank rock wall, resigned to what he knew the thick, blunt blade would reveal. Sure enough, shards of tasty yet ultimately worthless stone crumbled down to the dark brown Goron’s feet. A fine snack on any day, but Dorill wasn’t being paid to excavate a meal.

The Goron miner turned away from the financially disappointing finds, doffed his yellow safety hat and sat down with a grunt. Glances at those under his charge revealed similar feelings of apathy. Bohrin was napping, of course. Not that Dorill blamed him. When a Goron’s hair moved from the top of his head to the bottom of his chin, it meant he had already worked hard enough to earn as many naps as he wanted. Only Master Rohan, the great blacksmith, napped more than Bohrin.

The elder Goron still had an affinity for mining -- and a nose for locating where the best gemstones were buried. Bohrin was especially talented at pinpointing the exact whereabouts of raw diamonds, the smell of which he claimed was acrid enough to singe his nose.

The old Goron had smelled no diamonds on this day, however. Or rubies. Or topaz. Or any of the gemstones with which Hyrule’s other races were so unusually fascinated. Dorill -- and the rest of the Gorons -- didn’t understand them. Why waste rupees on a rock that doesn’t taste like a rock?

Truth be told, the Gorons would only thrive as long as the other races’ odd preferences held out. The trade of precious stones had seen Death Mountain remain a powerful seat of wealth for untold generations. Only the Gerudo came close and, since they dwelled in the opposite corner of Hyrule, even they presented little competition.

At least that was how it had been. Goron profits had fallen dramatically over the last moon cycle. Dorill knew at least part of the reason was causing small tremors within the Southern Mine even now.

Vah Rudania: the great lizard protector. When he was a boy, Dorill had marveled at the Sheikah machine’s size. That was when Rudania had the common courtesy to not rain fire and destruction on Death Mountain. Its latest assault had turned the northern mine into a lava sea riddled with island-like remains of the Gorons’ most lucrative operation.

Dorill missed the northern mine. He had already pegged out his next two digging sites there! Now, with the mine all but destroyed and that much closer to Death Mountain’s now-volatile peak, working there was out of the question. Bludo had sent Dorrill and his team to the old southern mine in hopes of recouping some of their losses. Three days in, they had precious little to show for their efforts.

The southern mine had been thoroughly cleaned out over two decades earlier. Lack of direct lava flow had stalled whatever gem regrowth might have occurred. One of Dorill’s first orders of business had been to punch a hole into the mine’s western wall to allow an ongoing trickle from the nearby Goronbi River. He knew it would take weeks, perhaps months, before the new lava flow would produce enough gemstones to justify their work.

Dorill pulled out of his brooding as Jengo approached. The young miner set down his own cobbler with a clatter and gestured at the newly broken rocks strewn on the ground.

“Mind if I have a bite?”

Dorill motioned for the yellow Goron to take a seat. “Go ahead, goro.”

Jengo sat alongside his supervisor and began munching away contentedly. Dorill did likewise. Tiny flecks of stone escaped the simple creatures’ wide mouths, which crushed the plain stone with precious little effort.

“You didn’t dig up more of the same at your spot?” Dorill asked between bites.

“Too salty,” Jengo answered after a particularly impressive belch. “Hoped it might mean somethin’, but it’s all snacks and no sparkles.”

Dorill nodded in agreement.  Jengo was a good worker, one of the best in fact. He didn’t have anything approaching Bohrin’s instincts, but the young Goron made up for it with tireless arms and an addiction to the grind. Jengo would probably head up his own team one day. Hopefully the Gorons would still need one by then.

“Was that Yunobo I saw goin’ with Kairo?” Jengo asked after a second round of hearty snacking.

“Yeah,” Dorill casually confirmed. “Boss wants Yunobo to keep him safe on the way to the stable. Wants this shipment to pay off, doesn’t he?”

“Wonder how Kairo felt ‘bout that,” Jengo chuckled. “No Goron should need to be babysat, an’ Yunobo ain’t exactly his granddad, is he?”

“Rudania’s got us by the stones,” Dorill cursed. “Yunobo may not be Daruk, but he’s got his Protection, don’t he? That’s the only reason the beast hasn’t wiped out the city by now.”

“I’ll give ‘im that,” Jengo agreed. “What if Rudania tries again, though? Won’t Boss need Yunobo here?”

“You know the Boss,” Dorill laughed. “‘Get your rupee today and your lunch tomorrow.’ Rudania aint the only thing they have to worry about. Been more Ganonspawn around lately. Might be why no new traders have come to the stable in a fair bit. He wants this shipment to go through more than he wants to sit around waitin’ for Rudania to lose ‘er temper again.”

Jengo nodded in agreement, but halted his third helping at the sight of a small rock ball rambling right up to them. The ball unfurled to reveal a tiny black Goron with an oversized worker’s hat. His round, jet-black eyes glittered as he beheld what remained of the adults’ snack.

“I work real hard!” the miniature Goron declared in a gruffly high-pitched voice. “It my break time now!”

“That must mean my break is over,” Jengo laughed. “Roll to it, then, little Axyl! Eat lots so you get to be big and strong like me!”

The little Goron immediately set about stuffing his face by the double handful, stopping only long enough to reply, “Gonna get bigger and stronger than both of yous put together!!”

Dorill softly patted the youngster’s back with his large hand. “Keep eating like that an’ you’ll be well on your way!”

Half-chewed rocks spilled from Axyl’s wide smile of approval at the compliment. Dorill shook his head in amazement as the little one judged each worker’s paltry returns from their work, unintentionally providing some much-needed smiles to the otherwise hard-pressed crew.

“Axyl no like amber. Bring me say-fires! Blue my favorite color! Next time you bring two times more as many, or no break!”

The good-natured Gorons left their self-appointed supervisor with solemn promises to improve before breaking into smiles the second they turned away.

“You’ve got’em quakin’ in their kits now, Axyl!” Dorill said approvingly.

The little Goron nodded in casual agreement before eyeing the metal cart containing the day’s findings. It was less than half full.

“S’not much, is it?” Axyl asked bluntly.

“No, t’isn’t,” Dorill answered honestly. “May’ap we’ll find more tomorrow.”

Axyl frowned in deep thought before brightening considerably. “May’ap the lizard monster will go away tomorrow!”

“I hope so, little Axyl,” Dorill replied seriously. “I hope--”

A great, metallic roar sent Axyl’s snack trembling upon the stone floor. A booming explosion shook the rock walls, followed by whooshing and breaking sounds that grew closer with each second.

“Heads down and shells up, boys!” Dorill bellowed.

The missile-like noises were nearly upon them. Dorill snatched Axyl to his body and curled up into the protective ball all Gorons could assume.  Several of what he knew to be magma bombs -- volcanically produced and Rudania-thrown projectiles -- crashed into the mine’s natural rock roof.

The entire structure collapsed, burying every last Goron in an immeasurable mass of shale and stone.

 

* * *

 

For the second time in as many weeks, Garill found himself prostrate before the great stone well within a magnificent redstone canyon. Once again, his tears drenched the dirt into which his face was buried. This time, he wept for a different reason entirely. He felt no bliss before the gaping maw. Terror such as the Yiga had never known had seized him.

“YOU REVEALED YOURSELF TO THE BOY?”

“Yes, Great Master!” Garill howled. The searing burn of failure was agony. “Your blessed magic was the only way I could escape the Hylian Champion and Sheikah dog! Please f-f-forgive me! Please!”

“BETTER THAT YOU HAD DIED THAN BETRAY OUR PRESENCE TO THE ENEMY.”

The booming knell might as well have been a boot, forcing Garill to squirm further into the ground. He groveled like the worm he knew himself to be.

“Forgive! _Forgive!”_

“BRING FORTH HE THAT IS TO BE INITIATED.”

Spasms seized Garill. He lay helpless, convulsing intermittently on the floor as the minutes stretched out and sped up at the same time. The Yiga remembered his own initiation well. It had been the proudest day of his life, his acceptance among the Chosen Race. He had sealed the moment in blood -- not his own, but another’s. The Gerudo wench’s neck had not been nearly so stiff once it had been torn asunder.

Footsteps scratched the shale-and-stone floor behind him. Two masked Yiga blademasters, their great two-handed cleavers sheathed on their backs, escorted an unmasked initiate between them. Garill knew this, for it had been the same on his great day. He kept his face pressed firmly to the ground, willing the forced darkness to be his only reality.

“FACE YOUR FATE, INSECT.”

Unwilling to let the Blademasters casually force his head upwards -- as they had done to his own victim years ago -- Garill flinchingly lifted his off-center eyes. He retched on the spot.

The initiate’s face was a nauseating mix of half-charred and half-healed skin. Only part of his nose remained. The left eye was milky white and dead, leaving the right’s living brown disconcerting in contrast. Gross, wet strands of hair protruded from the back and nape of his head, while the rest of his skull was as grisly and misshapen as the rest of him. Whoever he was, the young man would never be recognized by those he had once known. He would not be even were he unscarred. Like his soon-to-be brethren, the initiate would hereafter be seen only with a Yiga mask or the magically worn face of another. Thus did the Yiga maintain a secrecy rivaled only by their greatest enemy.

“YOU SEE THE IRONY?” the great voice crooned. “HE WHOM YOU WOULD HAVE HAD SLAIN REPLACES YOU.”

Garill’s eyes widened. His throat constricted, wrung by the true, chittering fear felt by those tracked down by fate’s merciless and fitting justice. The Great Master ignored the death-like rattles from his former servant and instead began addressing the initiate.

“WILL YOU LEAVE ALL BEHIND TO SERVE THE YIGA?

The voice that issued from the flesh-burnt atrocity was a painful, albeit emotionless rasp.

“I will.”

“WILL YOU DO ALL WITHIN YOUR POWER TO SEE THE DAYS OF THE DEMON KING RETURNED?”

There was no impression of thought or hesitation from the initiate.

“I will.”

Too late, Garill rediscovered his voice. The disgraced Yiga fell to the earth, only to shriek and blubber as the Blademasters seized his scalp and lifted his head.

“I will, Great Master! I will serve the Yiga and the Demon King! I will not fail you again! I will obey! I will--”

The initiate’s crescent-shaped scythe cut short his predecessor’s pleas. Blood mingled with, then drowned out the tears Garill had left on the canyon floor until it began trickling over the edge of the well. The voice from within seemed to savor its taste.

“YOU ARE YIGA.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The epilogue helps set the table for Book Three, in which the Gorons (and many others) take a more prominent part. If you're not sure who the Yiga initiate is, head on back to "Stories and Snares."
> 
> I've had so much fun writing this series. I can only hope you've enjoyed it as well. Book Three is in progress, but a newborn and shoulder surgery have kept me from finishing it as fast as I would like. It is all mapped out, however. Spoiler: many more (and deeper) viewpoints from other major characters are coming. If you've subscribed to my profile, you'll know the moment I've begun posting Book Three.
> 
> I've truly enjoyed crafting Link's personality, as well as those of Sidon, Paya and others. More significant enemies will surface, but keep your eye on the Wizzrobe(s). Their backstory will be a fun one.
> 
> Thank you so, so much for reading. If you've got a take on something you liked (or didn't) feel free to leave a comment/review. See you again very soon.


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